


Dancing with a Stranger

by bycosmicdesign



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Seduction, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Blood, Nausea, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, ander is happy for at least 5 seconds, blink and you'll miss it polander flirting, canon Ander being dumb, mean dads, mild background nadia/guzman, omar is happy for at least 5 seconds too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bycosmicdesign/pseuds/bycosmicdesign
Summary: When Ander gets a particularly bad nose bleed in class, he meets a handsome stranger who helps him out and turns his world upside down.
Relationships: Ander Muñoz & Omar Shana, Ander Muñoz/Guzmán Nunier Osuna/Leopoldo "Polo" Benavent Villada, Ander Muñoz/Omar Shana
Comments: 146
Kudos: 351





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set during what would be season two.
> 
> A few changes to note for the sake of this story: Marina ran away with Nano, which means Ander hasn't been burdened with Polo's awful secret, and Omar now attends Las Encinas after receiving his own partial scholarship.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander meets a handsome stranger.

Ander could feel his head pounding as he tried to concentrate on the teacher’s lecture, silently cursing Guzman and Polo and that damned drinking game they played the night before. Even worse, Guzman had raided his parents liquor cabinet, which allowed for the boys to get properly wasted rather than the comfortable buzz they usually got from drinking beer. Guzman had turned to liquor quite often now since Marina took off with Nano. He thinks his best friends hadn’t noticed, but they had; and Ander and Polo drank in solidarity with him, trying to lift his spirits with games rather than allow him to sulk alone. Which is how they ended up shit-faced drunk on a Tuesday night at Guzman’s. 

He glanced over at Polo, who seemed to be in just as much pain as he was. At least he wasn’t the only one struggling. However Guzman on the other hand looked pretty normal considering the amount of alcohol he consumed. Sure, he was the biggest of the three boys; he had more muscle mass, as well as a few inches on Ander still so certainly his body could handle a bit more than theirs, but couldn’t be by much. Ander also knows that Guzman likely has a higher tolerance for liquor than the other two boys as of lately. He curses him again under his breath as he tries to recall what the teacher had been talking about for the past ten minutes. 

Ander was staring down at his half-assed attempt at notes when he saw a drop of red land on his notebook. Then another, and another, beginning to cover his notebook. He reached up to feel the warm blood on his fingers and shot out of his seat— his chair making an awful scraping sound as it moves across the floor— making his head pound even harder than it already was. Ander looks up to see all eyes are on him and does his best to cover up his bleeding face. The teacher calls out his name but he ignores him, rushing towards the door to find the nearest bathroom.

He can taste the blood as it makes its way past his lips now and down his chin. Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, he uses the back of his other hand to try and wipe the dripping blood off of his mouth, successfully smearing it across his face. But he didn’t care at the moment. He just needed to find the fucking bathroom and why can’t he remember where it is? 

He turns down a hallway and sees the familiar locker room sign, running as fast as he dares. He can feel some of the blood begin to slowly run down towards his neck, without a doubt ruining his white button up. He’s already considering just taking a full shower; it’s the middle of the period so there shouldn’t be anyone in the locker room for at least another half hour. 

Carefully dodging the benches, he cuts through to where the sinks are and hears an alarmed voice shout out, “Shit, man. What the hell happened to you? Are you okay?” Ander keeps his eyes trained on his destination, focusing on trying to stop the bleeding and maybe spare his shirt in the process. 

“I’m fine,” he shouts back, brushing off the stranger. 

Once he reaches the sinks, Ander gets a good look at himself in the mirror. He looks like he just walked out of a horror movie. Exhaling a few curse words, he turns on the faucet and begins rinsing the blood off his hands. When he looks back up the boy is standing behind him with a horrified look on his face. 

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped. He was already humiliated enough, he didn’t need an audience as well. 

“You get your ass kicked or something?” 

Ander glared at him through the mirror. He hated that he looked weak, even if he didn’t know this guy. 

Clicking his tongue and ready to defend himself— or at least his reputation— he opens his mouth to respond when he feels a fresh drip of blood come down his nose again, bringing with it a wave of nausea. The boy must sense what was happening and within an instant is at Ander’s side, hastily grabbing paper towels and steading him with a firm grip on his arm.

“Whoa there, take it easy,” he slowly guides Ander so that he’s leaning back on the wall behind him. Ander was grateful for something solid to lean against while the room spun. 

“Can I...?” the boy asks. 

Ander’s not exactly sure what he was asking for but his head hurt too much to care. He nodded weakly and watched the boy go to work soaking up the fresh blood with a shower towel from the bench, watching as it slowly turns from white to red. 

Ander closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When he opens them the boy is standing much closer than he felt comfortable with, but he didn’t have the energy to protest. Ander focused his attention instead on the boy's face. He’s certain he’s never seen him on campus before.

He was actually quite handsome. He had dark hair coiffed to the right, chocolate brown eyes with thick lashes, and the bushiest eyebrows Ander’s ever seen, furrowed with concern. His eyes traced down the boy's nose, noticing the barely-there freckles sprinkled across his cheekbones. Slowly lowering his gaze further, Ander could see the outline of his facial hair, closely shaven down and framing his lips. Ander wanted to reach out and touch him, find out if the skin was as soft as it looked, or if he would be able to feel the stubble growing back already. Before he could do any such (embarrassing) thing, the boy backed away and turned to rinse some of the blood off the towel. Ander took the moment to try and compose himself. Blinking hard to make sure the room wasn’t still spinning, he stood up a little straighter and ran a hand through his curls, hoping he didn’t look as pathetic as he felt.

“This is one hell of a nose bleed, man. I used to get them often when I was a kid but never like this.” 

Ander never used to get nose bleeds other than the random one he got a few weeks ago. He shrugged sheepishly, trying to come up with an explanation, but he was honestly just as shocked. 

“Looks like the bleeding has stopped for now though,” he tells Ander, examining his face for a moment before moving out of the way. “Go ahead and rinse your face off.”

Ander nods and steps over to the sink, leaning down and weakly splashing water on his face. The cold water feels nice against his heated skin. He stands back up and examines himself in the mirror. A moment later the boy was crowding his space once again, although Ander didn’t quite mind as much now.

“Hold still, let me try and get the rest of the dried blood off.” 

Ander felt a chill roll through his body as the boy wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, holding him in place as he used a corner of the towel he had wet to wipe at his nose; the corner of his mouth; under his chin and down his neck. His heart racing with each new spot he touches, the boy's fingers hot against the back of his neck. 

Normally he would never just sit there and allow someone to wipe off his face for him. It was something a mother does to a child who can’t clean up after themselves. It was embarrassing. But with him, he felt....safe, maybe? Or maybe it was the fact that he was still a bit lightheaded that allowed him this vulnerability with a handsome stranger. Or maybe it was simply the fact that he was handsome. Ander wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt nice.

“Fuck, I was afraid of that,” the boy sighed, snapping him out of his own thoughts and making him panic for a brief moment, wondering if the boy was somehow reading his mind. But the boy was looking down at Ander’s shirt, thumbing the collar. 

“You got an extra one of these? It’s already dried on here so it’s not coming out without the proper kind of cleaner.” 

Ander turned towards the mirror, noticing the drops of blood that managed to land on his white button up. 

“Shit,” he breathed, trying to remember if he had a spare shirt with him or not. He’s certain he could always borrow one of Polo’s or Guzman’s if he needed to. He patted his pants pockets for his phone so he could ask for the combo to one of their lockers, realizing he must have left it in class. Damn, he really didn’t want his mom to see the blood on his shirt, he knew she would just assume the worst. 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s fine though,” he said reluctantly, turning to face the boy. The boy looked him up and down, making Ander shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. He figures he should probably get back to class soon and makes to move towards the door but is stopped with a firm grip on his arm.

“You could get written up for that.” he says, eyes darting down to Ander’s neck and the red stains on his collar. “Here, take this.” he continues as he let’s go of Ander’s arm to reach down into his backpack, pulling out a Las Encinas sweater and handing it out towards him. He stares at the garment for a moment, trying to recall if he’s ever heard of anyone getting written up for blood on their uniform. It seemed unlikely, but what harm could it do? Ander lets out a huff and grabs the sweater from his hand. He doesn’t want to offend the boy after he had been so kind to him, nor does he want to have to explain to everyone what happened to his shirt. Especially not his mother. 

He gives the garment a once-over, he’s sure it will fit him just fine. Certainly better than any of Guzman’s clothes would fit him. He tosses it on over his button up, smoothing the material down his front side and turns towards the mirror, his eyes immediately drawn to the bright red stains poking out over the neck of the sweater. 

“No, you idiot. Take off the damned button up. That shirt is as good as trash if you don’t try and treat the stain. Give it here, I’ll scrub.” 

“What?” 

Ander stared back at the boy in stupor. Did he really expect Ander to just strip off his shirt in front of a stranger? Well, to be fair, he technically gets fully undressed with random guys he doesn’t know everyday in this very locker room. And he supposed that it was a valid ask considering it would be rather difficult to wash his shirt while he’s wearing it. But the thought of him undressing while the other boy just watched made him feel exposed and vulnerable in a way that also made his stomach flutter. 

The boy waited patiently with his hand outstretched towards Ander, ready to receive his blood-stained shirt. His expression is a cross between amusement and annoyance. Ander wanted to protest but the look in the boy’s eyes made him do as he was told. With another huff, Ander pulls the sweater off over his head in one swift movement, laying it down on the bench to his right. His hands come up to loosen the tie around his neck, lifting it over his head and placing it down on the bench next to the discarded sweater. He begins to undo the top buttons of his shirt, trying to ignore the clammy feeling in his fingers and sweaty palms. He can feel the boys eyes on him and can’t help but look up.

The boy’s eyes are locked on Ander’s exposed chest. He can see his chest rising and falling with his breathing, deep and slow. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as his eyes slowly rose up Ander’s chest and neck, until finally their eyes meet just for a moment. Was this boy checking him out? The thought made Ander nervous. He made quick work of getting the rest of the buttons undone and removing his shirt, awkwardly holding it out for the boy to take. He chances a quick glance up at the boy and is baffled by the small smirk on his face as he snags the shirt from Ander’s hand and walks back towards the sink. He grabs the sweater from the bench, pulling it back over his head when he hears the water shut off abruptly, followed by a curse word.

“Sorry, but I gotta go. I’ll bring this back, okay?” he tells Ander as he hurries towards the locker room door. “Try not to bleed out!”

Ander barely has time to register what the boy had said before he looked up and saw him disappear out the door. 

“He took my shirt...” he mumbled aloud to himself, dumbfounded. He thought about running after him but the boy seemed to be in a rush and if he was being completely honest, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to chase after someone since he was still a bit nauseous. They were bound to see each other again, right? Las Encinas isn’t that big of a school. And the guy took his shirt! Was he going to wash it for him? And what was he supposed to do with the boy’s sweater? Ander had many questions, but the one thing he knew was that if he wanted to see him again (and get his shirt back), he had to figure out who he was first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander learns more about the mysterious boy.

By the time Ander makes it back to class, the school day is almost over and he couldn’t be more relieved. He makes his way to his seat, purposely avoiding eye contact with everyone in class. As soon as he’s situated though, he feels a paper ball hit him in the back of the head. He turns towards the direction of the throw where he knows Guzman is sitting, his friend giving him an ‘are you okay?’ look. Ander gives him a short nod and turns back in his seat. He sighs as his eyes land on his bloodied notes, he can barely make out the pencil markings. Frustrated, he crumples up the pages and pushes them to the corner of his desk. They had a test coming up next week and Ander was already falling behind. 

He’s always been a decent student, never top of the class or anything but he was a smart guy— he wasn’t a trouble-maker, wasn’t a class clown— he just had a hard time focusing as of lately. His brain felt sluggish, foggy. He brushed it off as exhaustion from tennis and his hatred for the sport which grew more and more each day. Not only did it drain him physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. After the last test he did poorly on, he told his mother how drained he felt from tennis. She was sympathetic, but his status as a tennis champ was one of the reasons he was able to attend Las Encinas in the first place. He knew he couldn’t keep using tennis as an excuse, it only made his father more upset and his parents had been arguing enough lately without him adding to their problems.  


The bell rang, signally the end of class and the end of the school day. Ander began gathering his belongings when he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you can copy my notes if you need,” Nadia offered. “I don’t think yours will be too useful for the test...” 

She held out her notes towards Ander with a soft smile, eyes darting down to the crumpled up papers and back up at him with a slight arch in her brow. Ander returned her smile, accepting the notes and thanking her. 

“Could you just bring them by the store later when you’re done?”

Ander agreed and got the address to her family’s store, promising to come by before they closed up. He was relieved he wouldn’t have to borrow notes from Polo or Guzman, these ones he could actually read. Not to mention, they were certainly more thorough than his typical notes— and about three times as long— which Ander told himself was a good thing. With these notes, he might actually be able to do decently on the test.

***

Ander walked into his bedroom and immediately collapsed on his bed. He was exhausted for no reason and could feel his eyelids becoming heavier. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he knew that he couldn’t if he wanted to be able to copy all of Nadia’s notes and bring them back to her in time like he promised. With a huff, he pushed himself upright and forced his legs to take him over to his desk. 

It took even longer to write out the notes than he anticipated. His brain unable to concentrate fully, his mind wandering back to the locker room and that boy. He closed his eyes, imagining the boy’s face, trying to remember all the details. He felt a rush course through his body when he thought of the way he caught the boy looking at him as he had undressed. Suddenly Ander snapped his eyes open and looked down, remembering that he was wearing the boy’s sweater. He immediately pulled it off and inspected it, thinking maybe he had his name written on a tag or something, people did that sometimes, right? Apparently not this guy though. 

Before he even realized it, Ander had Instagram open, ready to do some digging. He tapped on the search bar but had no idea what to type in. He still didn’t know the guy’s name or anything about him. Staring blankly at his phone, he let the screen go dark and then tossed the phone back on his desk in defeat. Glancing at the clock, he picked up his pencil and got back to work. 

His mind only drifted back to the boy a few more times until he was finally done and his hand was cramping. He had just over two hours until Nadia’s family’s store closed, so he jumped in the shower and got dressed, grabbing his bag with the notes and headed downstairs. 

“About time you came out of hiding, dinner should be ready soon.” 

Ander smirked at his mother and she gave him a wink as she made her way around the kitchen. 

“I gotta head out actually, just need to drop something off. I’ll be back soon, okay?” 

Ander could see his mom about to protest, but he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and walked out before she could say anything else or before he could run into his father.

***

The bike ride over to Nadia’s family’s store took longer than expected. It was an unfamiliar part of town for Ander and he had to stop on numerous occasions to consult his phone’s GPS and even asked for directions at one point. He began to feel a bit out of breath and decided to walk his bike the rest of the way. Looking down at the GPS, he turned the corner and looked up to see “Shanaa Bazar” on the corner of the next block. He’s certain that’s the right one, although he couldn’t quite remember what Nadia’s last name was at the moment. As he approached the store, he saw a cafe across the street and decided to stop in for a moment to use the bathroom and wipe the sweat off his face. The weather in Madrid is quite cool for the season, but Ander still biked for well over half an hour in jeans and a light jacket. 

Once he cooled down, he made his way across the street to the store, locking up his bike up on a light pole just outside. A bell signals his arrival but there’s no one sitting at the register, so he wanders around the store for a moment. The store is quite small, but nice. The produce is organized immaculately, and there’s little handwritten labels and price tags for most of the items, which Ander finds charming. He thinks that if he lived in this neighborhood, he would shop here. He spots some freezers towards the back of the store with cold drinks and decides to grab a water bottle for the trip back home. Ander is startled when he hears a voice behind him.

He turns and nods to the older man that greeted him who is leaning on a cane, probably Nadia’s father he thinks. Before Ander can say anything else the man is yelling out something in Arabic in the direction of what he assumes is the stockroom. Ander isn’t sure what he’s saying, but by the tone it doesn’t seem very friendly. The man turns back to him and Ander takes the opportunity to speak. 

“Hi, uh I’m actually looking for Nadia? We have class together and I just came by to give her something…” 

The man nods, looking skeptically at Ander for a moment but quickly turns his head and begins speaking Arabic again. He hears another man’s voice speaking back to him, it sounds like they are arguing, but Ander can’t know for certain. He just stands there awkwardly, waiting for the conversation to end. He can just barely see the figure of a younger man standing in front of Nadia’s father through the cracks in the aisle. After a few more exchanges, the older man rolls his eyes and he tells Ander that Nadia will be out shortly. He hobbles his way towards the stockroom, his shoulder slamming into the younger man as he goes and Ander winces at the interaction, feeling slightly guilty that his presence has already caused such an exchange. 

Once Ander is certain the older man is gone, he begins to walk back up towards the front of the store, he just wants to give Nadia her notes back and go home so he can pass out. Ander is suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as he gets a good look at the younger man who is making his way to the register. He watches the boy sit down with a huff, his face looks sad, or angry. The boy finally looks up and Ander’s heart races as he sees the recognition slowly come across his face, along with a small smile that Ander can’t help but return. Ander feels giddy with excitement as he walks towards the register, his grin getting bigger with each step as he wonders how he could be so lucky.

“Well, good to know you didn’t bleed out in the locker room after I left.”

Ander is close enough now that he notices the boy's eyes are no longer sad, but playful. Ander smirks, trying to come up with a witty response but the boy beats him to it.

“Are you stalking me now or something?” he teases. 

Ander rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks, remembering how he actually did try to stalk the guy online just a few hours ago, unsuccessfully. He enjoys the banter they are having and decides to play along. 

“Oh, you think I’m here for you? Well sorry to burst your bubble but I’m actually here for Nadia…” Ander doesn’t miss the falter in the boy’s smile. When the boy doesn’t speak again, he clears his throat and decides to come clean. 

“Actually we have class together and she let me borrow her notes after mine became collateral damage during the whole nose bleed thing.” He gestured vaguely to his face. After a beat adding: “I’m guessing you’re her brother?” 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, realization hits and he curses himself for not figuring it out sooner. Las Encinas— although a prestigious school that draws students from many different countries and backgrounds— does not have many Palestinian students. In fact, Ander is certain that Nadia, and now her brother, are the only ones. 

“Omar,” the boy finally says. Ander lets the name repeat in his head over and over again like a chant. Omar, Omar, Omar. 

“Ander!” Both boys’ heads turn towards the stockroom to see Nadia appear. “I’m so sorry for keeping you, did you find the place alright?”

Ander looked shocked for a moment at Nadia’s presence, almost forgetting the reason why he was even there. 

“Uh yeah, yeah. It was fine. Only got lost once or twice.” He shot her an awkward grin before digging into his bag for the notes and handing them to her. 

“Thanks again for letting me borrow these, you’re a lifesaver.” 

“Oh yeah? And what does that make me?” Omar scoffed, looking directly at Ander now, challenging him. Ander thought he could sense a bit of jealousy but he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Sorry, do y’all know each other..?” Nadia looked between the two boys with confusion. 

Before Ander could respond, Omar cut in. “No, I was just messing with him. I’ll leave you two to it...” 

Ander watched him get up and walk over to one of the aisles and pretend to straighten some cans. He didn’t understand why Omar was upset all of a sudden. Nadia thanked him again for coming by and excused herself to go back to studying. Ander continued to stand by the register awkwardly, not really sure what to say but not wanting to leave just yet. He looked out the window and noticed it was starting to get dark out, he really should head out soon if he didn’t want to get lost again.

“What are you still doing here?” 

Ander tried to ignore the tone of Omar’s voice. “Uh, I actually need to pay for this,” he held up the water bottle as further proof. Omar stopped his mindless tidying and walked back to the register and gave him the price. Ander grabbed a few bills out of his pocket and paid for the item, noticing how Omar’s face no longer looked playful or happy. He’s still not sure what he did wrong, but he wants to make up for it.

“Listen, Omar. Do you maybe wanna grab a drink sometime? Or maybe I can buy you lunch or something?” Omar’s eyes darted up in surprise. “You know, for helping me earlier in the locker room. As a thank you.” he added awkwardly, his heart beating in his ears as he anxiously awaits his response. 

Before he could respond, Omar’s father came back into the store, forcing Omar to break eye contact. Ander noticed how nervous he suddenly looked at the presence of his father. 

“I’ll see you at school, Ander” is all he says and Ander nods, thinking that he might have better luck speaking to Omar when his father is not around and reluctantly walks out the door.

***

The whole bike ride home Ander replays the interaction with Omar over and over in his head, trying to figure out when he might have offended him. He’s sweating and out of breath again by the time he walks into the front door, both his parents sitting on the couch give him a once over. He greets them and heads straight to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water and gulping it down. He begins to reheat himself a plate for dinner when his father comes over. Ander is immediately annoyed by his presence. These days the only reason his father even speaks to him has to do with tennis, and that was the last thing he wanted to talk about. 

“Don’t forget, Ander, the tournament is this weekend. I need you to focus and bring your all, okay?” 

Plate in hand, Ander just barely resists rolling his eyes, giving his father a short nod and walking away without another word. As he heads upstairs to his room, he can hear his father complaining about his attitude and he slams the door shut behind him. He ate his dinner in silence, still trying to wrap his head around the events of the day. He absentmindedly picks up his phone and feels as if a light bulb suddenly turned on. Opening up Instagram again, he types in ‘Omar Shanaa’ and lets out a soft exclamation when he sees the profile pop up, hopeful to find some kind of insight into Omar’s life. It’s mainly random photos of scenery, a few faces Ander doesn’t recognize, and the occasional group photo. He continues scrolling until he comes across a photo of Omar and Samuel, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders with wide smiles. Were they friends? Ander tries to think what all he knows about Samuel that would bring the two together. He stares at the photo for a long time before he notices another photo right below it, a candid photo of Christian and Nano smoking. Slowly, some of the puzzle pieces begin to come together. Nadia, Samuel, and Christian all went to the same school, so that must mean Omar went to school with them as well. But he couldn’t have gotten a scholarship like the others or else he would have been there last year when they all first came to Las Encinas. He wasn't quite sure what brought Omar to their school now, but he was grateful for whatever it was.

Ander let his mind wander until his eyelids got heavy, exhaustion suddenly overcoming him once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back for round two!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander comes up with a plan.

Ander walks into class the next morning with determination. His eyes immediately scanned the room for Samuel in hopes of sharing a desk with him and getting to talk to him. And if Omar happens to come up in conversation, well, Ander wouldn’t be upset. He was however upset upon seeing Rebekah already sharing the desk with Samuel, both deep in conversation. Ander tries to hide his disappointment and looks for another empty desk. Just as he thought he was out of luck, he spots Christian in the back corner alone at a desk and picks up his pace just a little so no one could take the spot before him. 

He likes Christian. The guy is a bit conceited, talks way more than Ander really can tolerate— which today might not be a bad thing— but otherwise the guy had always been nice to Ander. He was funny, undeniably himself, and liked to party. They had gotten along well when the new scholarship students had all first started last year, but once Christian’s obsession with Carla took over his life, not to mention Polo’s hatred of the guy for stealing his girlfriend, they didn’t really talk anymore. 

Ander hesitated at the desk for a moment, waiting for Christian to notice him and feeling nervous all of a sudden. Once it became clear the guy wasn’t interested in looking at anything other than his phone, Ander cleared his throat to make his presence known.

“Hey man, mind if I sit?” 

Christian’s wide smile wiped away all of his nerves and he took a seat, finding himself excited both at the prospect of finding out more about Omar and catching up with Christian. Before he was even fully seated, Christian stood up and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, shaking them slightly and immediately diving into loud conversation. It was gonna be a long day sitting next to him, but Ander was grinning nonetheless. 

They fell into easy conversation for a while, Christian telling him all about the latest drama with Carla, which was probably why she would look over and glare at him every so often. They both giggled and fell silent as the teacher came in. Ander took advantage of Christian’s (rare) silence as his opportunity to speak, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“Do you know a guy named Omar? I think maybe he went to your old school...Nadia’s brother?”

Christian looked surprised by the change in conversation but still wore his signature grin as he responded.

“Yes, of course, he’s a good friend of mine. Why? You looking to score?”

Ander felt his ears burn from Christian’s blatant question. Adding to the humiliation, he shot him a suggestive wink as well. Ander was dumbstruck. Christian didn’t know he was gay, how would he know about Ander’s crush on the boy? And what was that supposed to mean about Omar? When Ander was unable to respond, Christian continued.

“Sorry man, but I don’t think he sells anymore. I’ll have to ask if he has anything left over but I think he stopped once his parents enrolled him here. Too risky.”

Ander blinked slowly, taking in what Christian just said but not sure if he believes it. Christian had no reason to lie to him though, so it must be true— that Omar is a drug dealer. Or at least, was. Before Ander could respond, the teacher spoke up to begin class. After a few minutes, Christian nudged his arm and whispered to Ander that he could find him someone else to get whatever he wanted. Ander just nodded, unsure of what else to say. 

The rest of the class went by relatively quickly, Ander doing his best to pay attention to the lesson. He thought back to the neighborhood where Nadia and Omar live. Imagining Omar in some dark alleyway, swapping baggies for cash. The thought made him nervous; Omar wasn’t a big guy, he could easily be taken advantage of, robbed, or beaten up. Ander’s leg shook anxiously under the table, causing Christian to smack his knee and glare at him. He didn’t quite understand why he cared so much, he just met the guy yesterday. There was just something about him though that made Ander feel drawn to him.

As the two worked quietly on their assignment, Christian leaned over to whisper “do you want me to text him? What are you looking for anyways?” 

Taking in the confusion on Ander’s face, Christian continues. “Omar. I’ll text him now and see what he has. You thinking pills? Weed? Coke?”

Ander’s eyes go wide, shushing him and quickly looking around the room to make sure no one is listening in on their conversation. 

“No! Don’t text him. Please.” 

Ander flitched at the desperation in his voice as Christian put his hands up in mock surrender. This conversation is not at all going the way he thought it would. Ander was beginning to second guess his “genius” plan. Maybe the best way to find out more about Omar, was just to talk to Omar himself. His eyes wandered over to Nadia and he thought about going to visit their store again, but the memory of how nervous Omar looked when his father came back while they were talking convinced Ander otherwise. 

He sighed in frustration and looked back down at his paper. The corner of his eye catches the faded red circle at the bottom of his notebook and he stares at it for a while until suddenly he has an idea. He looks up at the clock, noticing it’s almost the same time that he got his nose bleed yesterday. He thought back to the first thing he knew about Omar: he had gym this period; which if Ander times it out just right, he can wait for Omar outside of the locker room. Ander smiles despite himself, feeling proud of his new plan. Now he just had to wait.

***

Ander kept glancing at the minute hand on the clock, watching as it slowly made its way around, inching closer and closer to freedom. He chewed on his bottom lip, unable to keep from anxiously bouncing his knee up and down, even though he could feel Christian’s glare on him again. The bell rang and Ander shot up, tossing a ‘let’s catch up later’ over his shoulder to Christian and was out the door within an instant, dodging Polo’s scowl (he’d deal with that later).

He was not running, per se, but he made his way to the locker room door in record time. His heart was racing for various reasons, but he took a few deep breaths and tried to look as casual as possible with his shoulder leaning against the wall as he scanned the faces of the boys as they filed out of the door. 

Ander stood up straight when he finally saw him, he was chatting animatedly with another guy as they came out of the door, almost shoulder to shoulder. His mouth opened just slightly, but he couldn’t bring himself to call out his name. What if they were together? Fear and doubt began to crawl into his mind. He wanted to run away and hide. Just then, Omar turned his direction and the two made eye contact. Ander watches as he says something to the other boy and then makes his way towards Ander. He doesn’t miss the way the other boy smirks at him before he leaves. 

“So you are stalking me.”

There’s a playfulness in his tone and Ander chews his bottom lip to keep from grinning. He notices Omar’s eyes dart down to his mouth and Ander feels brave again.

“Maybe just a little…”

Omar laughs and in return Ander’s heart swells. The hallway is filling up now and Ander has to remind himself there are other people around. He reaches into his bag and pulls out the sweater Omar had lent him the day before, holding onto it a little longer than necessary and stroking his thumb over the material one last time before handing it out towards Omar.

“Here. Thanks again, for you know...I meant to wash it for you but I didn’t get a chance after I had gotten home last night...”

Omar takes the sweater from his hands and opens his own bag, reaching in and pulling out Ander’s white Lacoste button up. Ander can already smell the fresh laundry detergent. 

“Try not to bleed all over it again, I had to scrub for like an hour.” 

Omar gave him a fake scowl as he handed Ander his shirt.

“No promises.” 

Both boys grinned at one another for a moment before Omar slung his bag back over his shoulder and looked around at the emptying hallway as the rest of the students made their way to their next class. Sensing a shift in the air between them, Ander feeling desperate for the conversation to continue, for the promise of more. He begins to babble: “Uh, listen, if I said or did something last night that offended you, that wasn’t at all my intention.”

Omar looked thoughtful for a moment, like he was considering his next words carefully. 

“Don’t worry about it.” he finally shrugged, although Ander wasn’t quite sure he believed it, but then Omar was smirking at him: “So when do you want to buy me that drink?”

“Ah I see, you only forgive me so you can get your free drink.” Ander teased.

“Guilty,” he laughed, and then looked back up at Ander expectantly, like he was waiting on a legitimate answer. The realization made Ander shift his weight from one foot to the other as he considered his schedule, wanting to make this happen as soon as possible.

“I can’t tonight, I have tennis and knowing my dad, it’ll be a long evening.”

Omar nodded and then reached his hand out towards Ander, palm up. 

“Give me your phone.”

Ander dug into his pants pocket and handed it over, watching as Omar typed his phone number into his contacts. The bell rang for class to begin and Omar handed back the cell phone. 

“Just let me know, it’s Nadia’s turn to close the store on Friday...” Turning on his heel, he made his way around the corner towards his next class before Ander could respond. 

“Friday,” he says aloud to himself, a smile tugging at his mouth as he makes his way to the classroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander is forced to change his plans.

“Let’s go again! This time with a bit of effort, please?”

Ander cursed under his breath at his father, his hand clutching down on the long metal neck in an effort to not throw his racquet at his father’s face. They had been at it for hours already; the sun setting long ago and the bright fluorescent stadium lights making him squint as he tossed the ball in the air and served it across the net. 

To say he’s been distracted would be an understatement. He knows his father has every right to criticize his performance right now; he was missing serves, coming up short on returns, and his reflexes were delayed. And Ander was trying, really, but it’s also just a practice— which in his opinion, has gone on for far too long.

“Dad, I have homework. Can we wrap it up?”

He watched as his father rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath as he looked at his watch. 

“Let’s go five more minutes and we will head home. Your mother should have dinner ready soon anyways.” 

Ander sighed in relief now that the end was in sight. He even put in just a little more effort in his final serves, knowing that if his father feels satisfied, he will be in a better mood and maybe, just maybe, take it a little easier on him. 

***

By Friday afternoon, Ander was practically vibrating with excitement. He would be meeting up with Omar around ten at a bar in town. Omar didn’t have to close up the store, but he still had to work a bit before he was free to do whatever. They had texted randomly a few times during the day, Omar telling him about a quiz he just took, Ander quoting whatever dumb comment Christian said to the teacher. 

Ander laughed out loud at the text that Omar had sent him when Guzman cleared his throat and gave him a pointed look. They were supposed to be working on a group assignment, but Ander had not been paying much attention. He sheepishly put his phone down and turned his attention to Guzman and Polo, who were both glaring at him. 

“Who are you texting?” 

Ander looked between his two friends as guilt began to slowly creep in. They had all three grown up together, had been best friends for as long as Ander could remember. And yet, for unknown reasons, Ander had never been able to bring himself to tell his friends that he liked boys. He’s certain the two wouldn’t care, hell, after the whole “throuple” thing Polo had going on with Carla and Christian, he was pretty sure his friends would be supportive. It’s just, they never really talked about those kinds of things— especially Ander. It’s not that he didn’t want to tell them, he just didn’t know how. They had stopped asking Ander about what kind of girls he was interested in a while ago after he continually blew off the subject with the same old excuse of tennis being his only focus; or that he just wasn’t interested in any of the girls at their school, they were all too stuck up or whatever excuse he could think of at the moment. 

This could be the moment though, he could tell them right now that he was talking to a boy he liked. It would be so easy, casual even. As the silence continued, Ander felt his heart beating in his ears and his palms begin to sweat as he took in a deep breath, however Guzman cut him off before he could respond.

“Whatever, Ander. What are you all up to tonight? Do you guys wanna come over? We could get drunk and play video games or something.” 

Polo shrugged and nodded his head yes and they both looked to Ander expectantly. He knows how upset they would be if they knew he was blowing them off for some guy he just met two days ago. Ander slowly lets out the breath he had been holding and puts on his best fake sad face.

“Sorry, I can’t tonight, tournament in the morning. My dad would kill me if I was out all night. You guys go ahead though.”

The two boys nodded their heads in understanding. Just then Ander’s phone vibrated again, signally another text from Omar. His guilt subdued momentarily as he remembered his excitement. He’s going to tell them eventually. But maybe he will wait just a little longer. 

***

Ander changed his outfit at least three times before he finally settled on some ripped jeans and a simple black polo shirt with his red bomber jacket. He studied himself in the mirror for a long moment, his nerves making him self conscious. He knew he was a good-looking guy, he noticed the flirty looks girls gave him whenever they went out, but this was different. This was someone he was actually interested in for once, someone he thinks may be interested in him as well. There was an unspoken magnetism between them that he couldn’t really explain, but it made his stomach flutter and his heart race. 

He had to remind himself not to get his hopes up though. For all he knew, Omar was just being friendly. Maybe he even felt sorry for Ander, thought he didn’t have any friends or something. Ander shook the thought out of his head and with one last look in the mirror he grabbed his phone and headed downstairs. It was almost 9:30 p.m. and he still needed to get a cab. He grinned as he saw the incoming text from Omar telling him he’ll see him soon. He began to type back a response when his father’s voice interrupted him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Ander looked up from his phone with confusion and annoyance. His father was standing at the kitchen island with his mother, hands on his hips.

“Out.” Ander responded curtly, causing his father to raise his eyebrows and cross his arms at his attitude. Ander rolled his eyes and provided him with just as little detail as he felt his father would accept.

“I’m meeting a friend from school. We’re just grabbing a drink right down the--”

“Ander you have a tournament in the morning, I don’t think it’s a good idea to be going out. It’s already getting late.”

“Excuse me?” Ander scoffed. Since when did his father dictate what he did on Friday nights? “I already have plans…”

“So? Cancel them. You’re not going anywhere.”

Anger began to build up inside of him, but his father continued before he could get another word out.

“This tournament is important Ander, it will set the pace for your entire year. You know how important it is to get a good ranking early on, and with how terrible you were at practice yesterday,” he paused to give Ander a pointed look, “you need all the rest you can get.”

“Dad it was just a practice! I’ll try harder once I’m actually competing, you know that!” Ander was starting to feel desperate, looking between his father and his mother and pleading: “It’s just one drink, please! I won’t be out late I promise.” 

“I said no.” 

“Are you serious? This isn’t fair! Mom?!” Ander frantically dragged his mother into the argument, knowing she was the more lenient one and usually let him do whatever he wanted. His mother just shrugged at him though and gave him a weak smile. Ander couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Your father is right, this tournament is important. I’m sure Guzman and Polo will understand…” she said softly.

“It’s not--” Ander sighed, he really didn’t want to tell them about Omar yet. But he thought maybe the fact that it’s not one of his usual friends might work to his advantage. 

“It’s a new friend...we just met the other day. He’s new at school and so I invited him out for a drink.” he looked up to see his mother’s face soften at that, and he knew he had her, “I was just trying to be nice, he doesn’t have many friends yet or anything but I guess I’ll go ahead and cancel on him…” 

He gave her his best puppy dog eyes and sighing loudly as he slowly retrieved his phone, making a show of it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother lift a hand over her heart and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking.

“My sweet boy. Honey, why don’t you invite your friend over here instead, hm? There’s some beers in the fridge and you guys can just relax here instead of going out...” she trailed off, looking between her son and her husband and hoping they’d both agree to a compromise. 

Ander’s eyes widened at his mother’s suggestion. He doesn’t know which is worse- bringing Omar around his parents or not getting to see Omar at all. 

“What? No! Are you serious, mom?” Ander felt betrayed.

He watched as his parents looked at one another, silently communicating ways to torment their son, probably. With a nod, his father finally spoke again.

“Yes, we are serious. You cannot leave, but your friend can come over if you’d like. They need to leave by midnight though.”

Before he could continue protesting, his phone chimed with another message from Omar, letting him know he was almost to the bar. He cursed aloud. Omar had biked so far already, he would feel awful cancelling on him now. 

“He’s already almost there…” he tried one last time with no luck. Ander pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, groaning in frustration. “Fine. I’ll invite him over.” he mumbled and headed back up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

He paced around his room for a moment before reluctantly pulling out his phone and shooting over a quick message to Omar: “Hey, so um...slight change of plans. Wanna come over?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter release! I feel like I've finally gotten a good outline of where I want to take this story, which makes writing the chapters much easier (who knew?). Not to mention, the complete lack of focus on my real job led to more weekday writing than usual. Yay?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander makes a move.

After pacing around his room for what felt like an eternity, Ander’s phone finally went off with a reply. He quickly typed out his address and sent it over, biting his thumb nail as he saw that Omar was typing back already. 

‘Be there in 15’ the response read. 

Ander smiled despite the situation because Omar still wanted to see him. He suddenly felt giddy at the thought of having Omar in his bedroom, butterflies wreaking havoc on his stomach. He looked up and quickly went to work straightening up his room to perfection. 

Looking at his watch, he had about five minutes until Omar was supposed to be there. He did one last sweep of his room for anything potentially gross or embarrassing and then headed downstairs. His father was sitting on the couch in the living room watching tv and Ander glared daggers at the back of his head as he walked towards the front porch to wait. The last thing he wanted was for one of his parents to get to Omar before him, he’d like to limit the amount of embarrassment he was surely going to be subjected to this evening if possible. 

He sat on the top step, elbows resting on his restless knees, and stared out at the gate. After a few false alarms-- his imagination creating figures in the dark-- he pulled out his phone and started playing a game of solitaire to help distract himself. 

After a while, the familiar sound of the gate opening causes Ander’s head to snap up. This time he knows he’s not imagining Omar as he walks towards him with his bike in tow. Ander stands up abruptly, his feet unconsciously moving towards him, meeting him on the bottom step. 

“Hey! You made it.”

Ander silently curses himself, hoping his voice doesn’t give away just how nervous he feels. Omar is silent, leaning his bike up against the patio wall and making sure it’s not going to fall over. The glow of the porch light softly illuminates Omar’s face in an orangey-yellow hue as he looks up at Ander, a small smile pulling at his lips. Ander returns it immediately. 

“Come. Let’s go inside.”

Omar nods and follows Ander into the house. Ander immediately goes to the fridge and takes out two beers. His father, still sitting on the couch, turns their way once he hears the sound of the bottles opening, giving Omar a once-over before standing up and clearing his throat loudly. Ander cuts in before his father can say anything, not wanting to give him the opportunity to say anything rude or embarrassing. 

“Dad this is Omar, Omar this is my dad.”

His father nods at Omar and Omar says hello. He eyes both boys intently. Ander quickly continues before any conversation can start.

“We’re going up to my room.” 

He tries to sound as casual as he would if it were Guzman or Polo that he was with, but to Ander this was anything but casual. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest as his father’s eyes burn into him with a look he can’t quite place. He feels oddly exposed, like his father can see right through him. He swallows the lump in his throat and motions for Omar to follow him upstairs.

“Midnight, Ander!” his father calls after them. 

Ander mumbles an insult, mostly to himself, wishing he had the courage to say it to his face. He opens his bedroom door and steps to the side to allow for Omar to enter first, turning around and promptly closing the door behind himself. Ander turns back towards the room and watches Omar as he wanders around the room. It’s the first time Ander has really gotten to look at him since he arrived and he allows himself a moment to soak it all in. Omar is wearing dark wash jeans and a dark grey button up, the top three buttons are undone, revealing a layer of black hair dusting his chest peaking out of his white undershirt. Ander can feel his throat go dry as he wonders how far down the hair might go.

“So, why the change of plans? Too embarrassed to hang out with me outside of school?” Omar questions, one eyebrow cocked up with intrigue and pulling Ander out of his daydream.

He must have seen the panic flash across Ander’s face at the accusation because he’s laughing out loud before Ander can even respond. He rolls his eyes at Omar, brushing past him and walking into the conjoined living area and plotting down on the sofa, Omar following along and taking a seat next to him.

Ander’s room was certainly a perk of being an only child. The master bedroom was on the first floor, which gave Ander the entire second floor to himself, other than the laundry room. There was originally a separate game room, but since only Ander and his friends used it (and quite loudly), they had knocked down the wall that separated the two rooms and made it into just one. 

They sat in an awkward silence for a moment, Ander fidgeting with the sofa material before he finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry for making you come all this way, I feel like such an ass. My parents just randomly decided to punish me and not let me leave the house” he explains, his head hung down in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it,” Omar tells him, there’s a brief pause before his face lights up with an idea, “in fact, why don’t we make our own bar, hm?” 

Ander watches with intrigue as Omar gets up and goes around the room, flipping on and off every light switch he can find and adjusting the brightness. Once he’s satisfied with the aesthetic, he walks back over towards Ander and pulls out his phone, putting on a rap song and turning the volume up loudly, swaying along to the beat and taking a swig of his beer. Ander grins as he watches him move, thinking it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“See? Just like a normal bar, right?” 

“Yeah, I can barely see you or hear you so we must be at a bar.” Ander jokes as Omar sits back on the couch next to him. 

The two grin at each other for a moment before Omar finally looks away and turns the music down, pulling Ander out of his daze. They both awkwardly take a sip of their beers. 

“So what did you get in trouble for anyways?”

Ander rolled his eyes dramatically and shrugged his shoulders in a ‘who knows?’ motion as he took another sip of his beer. 

Omar narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, “Hm...I knew you were trouble.” he joked. Ander smiled, hoping it was dim enough that he couldn’t see the blush that was rising in his cheeks. 

“Your dad seems a little intense, I think he was giving me the stink eye.” 

“I think that’s just his face now, actually,” They both laughed, and Ander continued: “He is a bit intense sometimes though. Especially when it comes to fucking tennis. I have this stupid tournament tomorrow morning, that’s why he didn’t want me going out anywhere tonight.”

“You don’t like playing tennis? Seems like you’re pretty good at it considering all the trophies I saw over there...”

Ander looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, realizing no one’s ever really asked him if he actually liked playing tennis before. They probably did back when he was a kid first starting out, back when he did actually enjoy playing. But the truth was, he hadn’t enjoyed it for a few years now. And he had never told anyone that before. Ander shook his head softly and took a deep breath. 

“No, I don’t think I do. And I am good at it, very good at it in fact," he threw Omar a smug wink before he continued, all playfulness put aside, "I’ve played ever since I was big enough to hold a racquet. But all the years of training and tournaments and summer camps make it feel more like a job than a hobby. I’m just tired of it, you know?”

Omar nodded in understanding and shifted himself on the couch, crossing one leg under the other and turning his body so he could face Ander directly. He brought his arm up on the top of the backside of the couch, resting his head against his fist. 

“Well, why don’t you quit? It’s still early in the school year, you could drop the course, switch to something else?” he suggested.

Ander sighed and mirrored Omar’s new position so he could face him, his knee brushing Omar’s.

“It’s not that simple...my father would die of disappointment if I ever quit.” 

“People don’t die of disappointment, Ander.” he told him, very matter-of-fact. Ander wanted to believe him, but Omar didn’t know his father. Ander felt the resentment for his father begin to loom over him. He didn’t want to talk about him or tennis anymore.

“Enough about me, tell me about you. What brought you to Las Encinas? This is your first year there, right?”

Ander felt excitement course through him once again. He wanted to know more about Omar. He watched his face carefully as Omar thought about what he wanted to tell him. 

“Well, my family is...I mean you know how Nadia is already, and you had the great pleasure of interacting with my father as well,” they shared a knowing look with one another at Omar’s sarcasm regarding his father. “They are also a bit intense I guess. My parents are very religious, so of course they expect the same from Nadia and I, except we’re not. Last year, when I got sent to the new school after the building collapsed, I made some um, interesting new friends. I got mixed up in some stuff that I really shouldn’t have and my parents found out about it.” 

Omar let out a humorless laugh and began to pick at his cuticles. Ander was immediately reminded of what Christian told him, how Omar had been dealing but stopped recently. He wanted to press him for more info, but he didn’t want him to know that he knew already. So instead he waited for Omar to continue. 

“I was grounded for like six months. Couldn’t leave the house or the store other than to go to school, got my phone taken away, couldn’t see any of my friends...it sucked. The only good thing that came from this was how focused I became on school, for lack of distraction. My grades improved drastically and I was able to prove to my parents that Nadia wasn’t the only smart one. And I resented that damn store, so much. During that time, I realized I wanted something more for myself. I don’t want to just get by and then work at that shitty store for the rest of my life. So, Nadia helped me apply for a scholarship for the next year. But I didn’t exactly meet all the qualifications, so it’s only a partial scholarship.”

Ander felt a small surge of pride thinking about how his mother probably reviewed his application and approved the scholarship. He was going to have to figure out a way to thank her. 

“It was a bitch trying to convince my parents to let me attend though, that I was worthy of the same opportunities as Nadia. I think my father finally caved because he realized that he would no longer have to take the blame or feel guilty if I never amount to anything. It’s all on me now since I’m getting this fancy education to get into a good school, build a career and whatnot. That and the fact that I could lose my scholarship if I fuck up again, so no pressure or anything...”

Omar gave him a short smile and began to scratch at the paper on his beer bottle. Ander watched him and thought about the way Omar looked afraid of his father at the store. He was curious to know more about their relationship, but he’s willing to be patient. Omar was certainly opening up to him quite a bit already considering the short amount of time they’ve known each other. Once it became clear Omar was done speaking, Ander gathered up the courage to ask him something that had been running through the back of his mind, feeling hopeful he would get an answer this time.

“Omar..? Why were you upset with me at the store?”

Omar scoffed and rolled his eyes, clearly not wanting to talk about it, which only made Ander even more curious. 

“Really, dude? This again?”

“C’mon, you can tell me. I just want to make sure whatever it was...that I don’t do it again, you know...if I can help it.” 

Ander looks into his eyes earnestly and Omar’s face softens, with just a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Omar is the first to look away, his eyes wandering around the room until they finally land on Ander’s knee. His hand soon follows his line of vision, absentmindedly pulling at the strings of the tear in his jeans, his fingers brushing lightly against the skin right above his knee. Ander watches his face as it scrunches up with concern, eyes still focused intently on the strings and he begins to speak, just barely above a whisper.

“You know, growing up, Nadia has always gotten everything. Even before our older sister, May, took off -- Nadia was always the favorite. Everyone loves her, she never got in trouble, never talked back, she got perfect grades...she’s one of those people that’s good at everything, even if she’s never done it before…”

Ander wasn’t quite sure what this had to do with him, but as he listened to Omar, he got the feeling that he’s never voiced this aloud to anyone else before and it made Ander feel special. 

“She has just always gotten whatever she wanted....whatever I wanted too.”

Omar finally looked up at him then. His eyes bore into Ander’s, searching for understanding.

“When I saw the two of you interacting, I panicked because I thought…” 

Omar let out a shaky breath and looked away briefly, blinking hard before finding Ander’s eyes again and continuing. 

“I panicked because I thought that you were about to be another thing she took from me…”

Ander barely heard the last part, his pulse beating rapidly in his ears. He gently shook his head from side to side as he put together what Omar was telling him. Omar thought that he liked Nadia, not him -- which was absurd. 

“Omar, I--” 

Ander scooted himself closer and placed a timid hand on his arm, slowly stroking it with his thumb. Their eyes met once again, both searching for answers. But instead, Ander leaned in slowly, his gaze dropping down to Omar’s mouth as his lips parted. He hesitated, just for a moment, a sliver of doubt creeping in before Omar closed the gap between the two as they kissed, pulling him in by the back of his neck. They both fumbled shyly before finding a rhythm, Omar sucking Ander’s bottom lip and then slowly slipping his tongue in. Ander followed Omar’s lead and let his instincts do the rest, chasing the heat that was curling in his stomach.

Ander slides his hand down Omar’s neck and down to his chest. He lets his fingers caress the exposed hair there, experimentally dragging his fingernails down, firm-- but not hard enough to leave a mark. Omar lets out a soft moan at the contact, in turn moving his own hand further up Ander’s thigh and squeezing tightly. Encouraged by the reaction, Ander drug his nails down his chest once again, this time just slightly harder. Omar’s other hand dug deep into his hair, gripping it tightly and lighting up the flame in his stomach, growing wilder by the second. Ander has never wanted anything or anyone so badly in his life. The feeling is intoxicating, and he wants more.

An abrupt knock on the door sends both boys flying to opposite ends of the couch as the door handle softly opens and his mother steps into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt, boys --oh, it’s a bit dark in here.” his mother adjusts the brightness of the light before continuing, “I just wanted to drop off your uniform for tomorrow,” she held up the uniform for show and placed it on the bed.

Ander, still trying to control his breathing, nodded to thank her, not trusting his voice at the moment. Ander prayed that it was still dim enough in the room that she couldn't see how Ander's skin was on fire. She looked up and smiled, her eyes narrowing just slightly at Ander before she spots Omar. Ander could see how surprised, yet pleased, she was that this was the friend he was hanging out with.

“Omar, right? You’re Nadia’s brother?” 

Ander turned his head just in time to see Omar’s face go from humiliated to horrified as he looked up and realized who she was. His eyes widened and his face drained of color as he held onto one of the throw pillows for dear life.

“Um, yes ma’am.”

“How are you liking school so far?” 

Ander knew where this was going and he whipped back around to glare at his mother.

“Mama we talked about this, remember? No more harassing my friends about school when they come over! Please, get out.” 

His mother at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed as she walked towards the door. She hesitated for a moment before turning back towards Omar. 

“Well, we are happy to have you Omar, both at school and in our home.” 

Ander rolled his eyes, feeling himself relax once he heard the door click closed again, and dragging a hand down his face. His heart still racing in his chest with adrenaline at the fact that they almost got caught by his mother; at the fact that he and Omar were kissing at all. The last thought made him smile and he looked back over at Omar, who looked like he had just seen a ghost. Ander scooted to the middle of the couch and reached out to touch him, but Omar’s entire body went impossibly more rigid than it already was before he jumped up off the couch and grabbed his jacket. 

“I-- I gotta go, sorry.”

“What? What’s wrong? Omar?” 

When Omar didn’t respond, Ander stood up and followed him to the door, getting to him just in time to slam the door back shut with a firm hand on the wood as soon as Omar opened it. He heard Omar let out a frustrated sigh before he turned around and faced Ander. Ander had a hard time reading his face. He looked angry and scared and confused all at the same time.

They were only inches apart now, Ander crowding in his space. They stared at each other for what felt like hours until Ander took a step forward, gently pushing Omar up against the door, their bodies fused together. Ander kept one hand on the door right next to Omar’s ear, and hesitantly brought the other up to cup his cheek. He could hear Omar’s breath hitch just slightly and within an instant his mouth was on Omar’s. He kissed him slowly and deep, as if the key to Omar’s mind was written on his lips and he desperately wanted to unlock it. 

Omar’s hand came up to rest lightly on Ander’s chest and then he was pushing Ander back, gentle, but firm, until they were no longer connected, Ander’s hand falling from it’s spot on the door. Omar took in a deep breath, exhaling his next words out in a whisper: “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Omar turned and walked out the door quickly and Ander was dumbfounded for a moment, unsure of what was happening. All he knew was that he didn’t want Omar to leave like this.

“Omar...Omar, wait!” 

Ander chased him down the stairs, ignoring both his parents’ questioning eyes as he followed Omar out the front door. Omar was already picking up his bike, ready to bolt, but Ander stood in his way, hands gripping the handlebars tightly. 

“Ander, move.”

“No. Not until you tell me why you’re being like this.”

“Ander, MOVE.”

“Seriously? Are you really freaking out right now? You told me you wanted me...” 

Ander was not only confused by Omar’s behavior, but hurt as well, begging for an explanation. A flash of defeat shown across Omar’s face. Omar let out a sigh and took a step towards Ander, his right hand coming up to stroke his cheek, once, then twice, before dropping it back to his side. 

“I’m sorry Ander, but I just can’t do this, okay? I’ll see you around…” 

Ander watched as Omar walked his bike through the gate and out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: Am I the only one that's confused by the layout of Ander's bedroom/that upstairs living room? I have reasons to believe it is not at all part of his room but let's just go with it.
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with this story!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omar contemplates the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV change because what the heck is going on inside Omar’s head?!

Omar’s heart was beating faster than necessary for the casual speed in which he was pedaling through the unfamiliar streets of this side of town. His mind raced with the images of what just happened. It all happened so fast, he didn’t expect things to get so intense so quickly. He cursed himself again for letting himself get into this mess. He couldn’t afford any more fuck ups or distractions from school, and he certainly couldn’t afford himself the thought that this thing with Ander could be anything more than just that: a thing.

Because Ander isn’t like the guys he’s met on the apps; Ander is kind and funny and he listens to him— Omar already feels as though he could tell him anything— and god, he was beautiful. It took everything Omar had to not push him down onto that couch and kiss every inch of him until he begged for more. The thought alone was distracting enough to make him almost crash his bike into a bush. Which was symbolic really, considering how he expects this thing with Ander would go: with a crash. 

Because Omar could never be with someone like Ander, certainly not because he didn’t want to, but because he could never be with another boy. His father would never allow it. He’d be shamed, disowned, an embarrassment to his family. 

He’d already indulged himself too much by even going over to Ander’s house tonight. Sure, at the time he wasn’t entirely sure of Ander’s preferences, but there was no denying the chemistry he felt between them. Well, Ander had certainly made his preference clear now, and knowing that— and that he seemed to feel the same way about Omar— was bittersweet. Because it meant that this was no longer just a crush he had on some random (and probably straight) guy anymore. That he could handle, he’s gotten pretty used to it at this point. Omar could do unrequited lust all day, that’s what his fantasies and dreams were for. But, this— this was different. In the worst, most amazing, way possible. 

He wasn’t going to lie, the intensity of his feelings for Ander surprised him and even scared him a little. The way his heart would skip a beat before exploding into a million butterflies anytime Ander was near; that was a new feeling for Omar. And as pleasant as it’s been, he knew he needed to distance himself before they both got hurt. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Ander. He couldn’t bear to drag Ander into the personal hell he was living in, stuck so deeply in the closet for fear of exile from his own family. Ander didn’t deserve that. So maybe Omar panicked and overreacted a bit, but he couldn’t let this go any further. He’s not sure he would be able to control himself.

He skids to a stop at an intersection. Left would take him home; right would take him, well, not home. It was still early for a Friday night, and his parents already expected him to be out pretty late so he might as well enjoy the freedom while he can. He turns right at the light and leisurely pedals down the somewhat familiar road, following the sound of voices that lead him to a bar on the corner a few blocks down. He figures this is as good a spot as any to drown out his thoughts of Ander. 

He locks up his bike and walks to the front door, pulling out his phone along with his wallet. His stride stutters when he sees the three missed calls and five texts from Ander. He feels bad leaving the way he did. Ander had done nothing wrong, but the sooner he put an end to this the better.

He pockets his phone, ignoring the messages and shows his ID to the doorman as he walks in the bar. He sat down at the bar top and ordered himself whiskey, neat; he needed something stronger than beer to distract him right now. 

Omar is finishing up his whiskey when he feels the presence of someone standing a little too close to him. The bar wasn’t very crowded, it wasn’t exactly the kind of place you get all dressed up to go either, it was filled more with neighborhood locals than tourists. Omar shifts to the side to create more space between them and gets a good look at the space stealer. The man looks to be in his early to mid twenties, he has shaggy black hair and a devilish smirk. Omar will admit, the man is handsome. He motions for the man to approach the bar, assuming he’s there to order a drink. The man approaches, leaning his elbows on the bar top. He orders himself a beer, sneaking a glance at Omar and signals the bartender for a refill of his whiskey. 

‘Well hello distraction,’ he thought to himself. The man takes a sip of his beer and turns towards Omar, holding his beer up to ‘cheers’ him. Omar obliges, meeting his glass with his own and thanking the man for the drink. 

“You here all by yourself?” the man asks, even though they both already know the answer. Omar nods in response. 

“Must be my lucky night then.” 

Omar smirked back at him, letting his eyes roam over the man, checking him out. He had a dark complexion, wavy hair and dark brown eyes. He was pretty muscular too, not too muscular, but more so than the guys Omar typically liked, he also had a tattoo sleeve on his left arm. But most importantly, he looked nothing like Ander, which was perfect. Omar was just about to respond when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Without thinking twice, he pulls it out and sees the newest message from Ander.

“Please just let me know you got home safe…”

Omar felt his heart ache with guilt, with longing. He could picture Ander pacing back and forth in his room, worrying his lip and waiting for Omar’s response. God, this boy would be the death of him. He’s pulled back out of his thoughts when the older man clears his throat.

“What do you say we take these drinks somewhere quieter?” 

Omar stares at the man, then back down at Ander’s message. It shouldn’t be this hard. This is exactly the kind of interactions with men he’s used to, the ones he prefers. It was better this way, safer. No feelings involved. No names exchanged. No chance of exposure. Just a good time. 

“I’m sorry, but I think I better be getting home now…” the words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he was doing, “thanks for the drink.”

The man looked disappointed, but nodded in understanding. 

“That’s too bad, I hope to see you around another time then.” 

He gave Omar a curt smile and made his way towards the dance floor. Omar let out a deep breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and dragged a hand down his face in frustration. He looked down at his phone again and typed out a quick response to Ander.

“I’m okay”

He throws back the rest of his drink and heads out the door. 

***

It’s a quick ride from the bar to his house. He walks into his and Nadia’s room and is surprised to see she’s not there. He wonders if their parents let her go out tonight too, or if she was off somewhere pretending to study. Either way, Omar was thankful for the rare privacy. He plopped down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

He wasn’t sure what had come over him at the bar. That guy would have been the perfect distraction he needed to cleanse Ander out of his mind. But his conscience refused to allow that to happen, apparently. He’d have to find another way to purge his mind of the thoughts and hopes he had of ever being with him, of the memory and feel of his lips against Omar’s. 

Omar’s fingers came up and brushed his lips lightly, recalling the feeling and taste of Ander as he closed his eyes and pictured the hungry way he had looked at Omar, the feeling of his calloused fingers dragging down his chest. This train of thought was pleasant, too pleasant, as Omar felt the familiar heat stirring in his belly and tingling down his spine. 

With a huff, Omar sat up, biting his lip as he watched the door carefully. The house was silent, but he didn’t know how long he had until Nadia would be home. God he hated sharing a room with his sister. He wished he had a room like Ander’s... 

Ander. His mind wouldn’t let him think of anything other than him. Omar got up and headed for the bathroom, knowing there was only one thing left he could do to maybe get him out of his system. He undressed as the steam from the hot water began to fill the bathroom and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water almost burn his skin. 

He closed his eyes and let his mind run free, imagining what could have happened in that room if they hadn’t been interrupted, if Omar wasn’t such a coward... 

‘This is the last time,’ Omar told himself, as soon as the sun comes up, he would not allow himself to think about Ander in this way again.

As he laid down in bed and closed his eyes, his mind brought him to a different version of Ander than the physical desires from before. He pictured Ander smiling at him and laughing. His eyes lit up with mirth and adoration. He saw them holding hands in the hallway at school, going on dates, kissing in public. 

Omar just knew then, he was screwed. So incredibly, stupidly, screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the random hiatus and thanks for your patience! These past few weeks have been crazy busy, leaving me without a moment to even think about how I wanted this chapter to go.  
> 
> 
> (Personal end notes): Basically my job sucks right now and is sucking away at my soul. And also I adopted a puppy! (which has restored my soul— it’s about balance, right?). Lots going on, but I still very much love this story and will be working on it whenever I can. I have a few other stories in the works still as well (one that is almost complete!) that I am hoping to get posted soon-ish. 
> 
> Thank you again as always!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can have an extra long chapter, as a treat. ;)

The sound of the alarm clock blaring jolts Ander awake. He’s already in a bad mood because he has to play in this stupid tennis tournament, but his mood is extra sour this morning since he had barely slept, his mind tormenting him with thoughts of Omar all night. 

He had paced around his room for hours going over every last detail he could recall since Omar had arrived. Things seemed good, great even, until his mother had walked in. He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t interrupted. Would Omar have still freaked out? Or would things have gotten more heated? He’d like to think the latter, but unfortunately he didn’t get the chance to find out. 

Honestly, he could see if his mother-- being the principal and all-- freaked him out a bit. It wouldn’t be the first time. There were certain friends of Ander’s who refused to hang out with him at his house because they were weirded out about her being there, which was annoying but he supposed he could see where they were coming from. But this seemed deeper than that. There was conflict in Omar’s eyes that concerned him more. 

But what really frustrated him was that Omar wasn’t willing to talk to him about it. He all but begged for Omar to talk to him, his voice pleading to call him back. He didn’t though. All he got from Omar was confirmation that he made it home safely, which Ander was at least grateful for that. He knew Omar probably just needed some space to think, but that’s what scared him. Maybe Omar would realize he doesn’t want him anymore. Or that maybe Ander’s just not worth the trouble. 

He tried to push these thoughts away from the forefront of his mind as he got dressed and headed downstairs. He actually felt relieved in a way for the tournament today because it would give his mind a break from Omar. Or at least so he thought.

***

His first match was rough, he just couldn’t get into his usual rhythm. He tried to tell himself it was just because he was tired, that’s all. But with every flash of the night before, he knew it was a lie. 

His father didn’t seem to believe it either as he screamed at him from the sideline as Ander fell further and further behind his opponent. Ander knew he really fucked up when the screaming stopped. He glanced over towards the area he last saw his father pacing around to find him sitting calmly with his arms crossed. That image was far more terrifying than the insults he was hurling at him earlier. Ander shook his head, hoping he could literally shake out all the distractions and focus. The match ended with Ander closing the gap significantly between him and his opponent, but not enough to win. 

“I’m just tired, okay? I barely slept last night.” Ander mumbled on the car ride home after his final match.

His father scoffed as his excuse, “And you wonder why I didn’t want you going out last night. Shouldn’t have let that Muslim boy come over either...”

Ander rolled his eyes and bit down hard on his lip to keep from talking back. Instead, he leaned his head on the window with a thud and watched as the landscape disappeared along the highway.

The entire day had gone by already with still no word from Omar. Ander felt like he was going insane. The tournament hadn’t helped distract him like he thought it would, it only made things worse. So now here he was, pacing back and forth in his bedroom yet again, allowing his brain to come up with the most absurd scenarios as to why Omar was still ignoring him. He knew it’d be another sleepless night at this rate. He wanted more than anything to see his face, to hold his hand, to kiss him...but he couldn’t. 

With an exasperated sigh, he plopped down on the sofa in his room and turned on his PlayStation. Before the second round of his game even began, he was already fast asleep.

***

The next day of the tournament went smoother. Ander really had to step up his game to make up for his terrible placing he received the day before. However, no matter how hard he tried, his father still gave him disappointed looks the whole time. 

He felt better today though, his mind was a bit clearer after some much needed sleep. Despite still being consumed with thoughts of Omar during every timeout and between each match, desperately checking his phone for any missed messages, he was able to concentrate enough to pull off a decent ranking. Fourth place was hardly an accomplishment considering all his first place trophies back home, but it was much better than the seventh place ranking he had yesterday. He knew his father was not happy with the way he played this weekend, but he hardly cared. He only cared enough that his father would get off his back and leave him alone.

It was late afternoon by the time he got home. He still found himself checking his phone every two minutes for a missed text or call from Omar, but no such luck. He could feel himself getting more and more anxious again. He needed to get out of the house. He needed to see him. 

Ander grabbed his phone and made his way downstairs. He could hear his parents’ hushed conversation from the kitchen and as he rounded the corner, they immediately fell silent. Ander rolled his eyes, knowing they were talking about him. 

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Actually we’d like to discuss your performance.” His father countered. 

“Can we do this later? I really gotta be somewhere…” 

Ander did not have the time nor the patience for this, but the look on his father’s face made his argument die on his tongue.

“Where would that be? Please, tell me what’s more important than your future? Because after your performance this weekend, I’m not sure you’ll have a future anymore.” 

Ander rolled his eyes at his father’s dramatics. 

“You disagree?” his father questioned, letting out a humorless laugh, “Do you actually think you could have a real future without tennis getting you there?”

Ander wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew whatever he said would only piss his father off more. Luckily, his mother cut in before he could say anything that would get him in more trouble. 

“Listen, honey. We just want what’s best for you and for you to have as many opportunities as possible for your future...but in order for that to happen you have to be willing to work for it, right?” she told him with a stern look on her face. 

“Just, be home for dinner, okay?” she sighed.  


His father looked at her with disaffection and Ander felt slightly guilty for being the cause of yet another evitable fight for his parents, but he also knew this was his opportunity to get out while he could. He gave his mother a quick nod and his father a heated glare as he headed out the door. 

*** 

As he pedaled towards the bright green bodega, Ander felt panic creep in. What if Omar didn’t want to see him? What if he’s just being paranoid about everything? 

It was too late to back out now. Through the windows, he could see Omar sitting at the register, staring down at a book. Ander’s heart rate picked up just from seeing him, giving him the courage he needed to walk into the store.

The bells on the door announced his arrival, and Omar’s head snapped up to greet the new customer, but Ander could see the words die in his throat as he saw him. His eyes went wide and his back rigid as he quickly looked over to where his father was putting out produce, his back turned to them. 

“H-hello, welcome…” Omar spoke a little too loud, a little too formal. It made Ander wince as he wondered yet again about the way Omar seemed afraid of his father. 

Once he was certain his father wouldn’t turn their direction, Omar whispered to him through clenched teeth, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Omar, can we just talk for a minute? Outside, maybe?”

Omar looked nervously towards his father again then back to Ander before sighing and calling out to his father.

“Baba, um this is one of my classmates. We’re...uh, working on a project together...do you mind if I take a quick break so we can discuss the next steps for our assignment?”

Omar’s father looked between his son and Ander briefly before nodding his head and telling them to make it quick. Ander thinks his father looks friendlier than the first time he saw him, but there’s a hardness in his face that unnerved him.

Ander followed Omar out the front door and off to the side of the entrance. Once Omar felt satisfied with the distance between them and his father, he turned on his heel to face him, his expression stern as he looked expectantly at Ander. 

“You haven’t been responding to any of my messages...I just...wanted to see you, make sure you were okay…”

“I told you I was okay…” Omar sighed, frustration evident in his tone. 

Ander scoffed, his own frustration bubbling up at Omar’s attitude. He didn’t like that Omar was shutting him out again when all he wanted to do was talk and figure out what was going on. 

“Yeah. Well excuse me for being a little confused after you kissed me and then ran out the door without any explanation.” Ander could see guilt flash across Omar’s face as he continued, “Please just talk to me, Omar.” 

Omar’s voice was softer now, “I am sorry, Ander. I shouldn’t have done that. But you can’t just show up here like this, man.”

“Why not?”

“Because, what is my family going to think? Listen, I know I should have said something sooner, but no one knows _that_ about me. They can’t know. It’ll ruin my life. So please, just…drop it.” he mumbled. 

“Drop it? Drop what, us? Seriously?” Ander asked incredulously. Omar shrugged, his eyes focused on his feet. 

But Ander was not willing to give up so easily. Not when he knew what he felt. Not when he knew Omar had to feel it too.

He took a step forward and grabbed Omar’s hand closest to the wall, squeezing it. Omar looked up quickly, eyes darting into the store at his father’s back and scanning the street for anyone who might be watching before settling back on Ander. He didn’t pull away though, so Ander took another half-step forward, bringing his other hand to rest on Omar’s shoulder.

“Ander…” he warned, trying to shrug off his hand as his eyes scanned along the street again.

But Ander didn’t care, he just squeezed Omar’s hand tighter, giving it a little tug and bringing his attention back to him, to them. 

“Tell me then. Tell me you feel nothing for me. Tell me and I’ll leave you alone.” 

Being this close to Omar was maddening. Every nerve ending in his body electrified by the proximity. He craved it, like a magnet being pulled in closer, like that was his one true purpose, being close to him.

“You know that’s not true…” Omar mumbled, looking away shyly. “In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

Ander had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep his goofy smile from splitting open his face. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but he knew Omar would not react kindly to that, despite the fact that he just admitted he had feelings for him. Instead, Ander slowly interlaced his fingers with Omar’s, their hands still hidden discreetly between them and the wall. A little thrill coursed through him as Omar squeezed his hand momentarily.

“But...I was being serious when I told you I can’t.”

Omar began pulling his hand away and Ander immediately chased after it, desperate for the warmth it gave him, but Omar took a step back, moving out of his reach and crossing his arms across his chest. Confusion and frustration swept over Ander once again. He wanted to protest, but couldn’t find the words. He could only shake his head no. 

“If word got out about this, us, my life would be over. I’d be disowned, kicked out of my house, pulled out of school...I’ll have nothing. It’s too risky.” 

Ander was speechless, his mouth parted open in stupor. He didn’t realize the pressure that Omar was under or the fear he lived in in his own house. It made his stomach uneasy at the thought of Omar’s parents being capable of being so cruel to their own son. 

Ander could see the glisten in Omar’s eyes that caused him to blink rapidly and look away before taking a deep breath and composing himself again. 

“I am sorry, Ander. Truly. I’ll see you around...” Omar whispered as he turned and began to walk back towards the entrance of the store.

“Wait! So that’s it then? We…we can’t even be friends?” 

It was upsetting enough that they couldn’t be together, but if Ander wasn’t even able to have Omar as his friend, he would be devastated. They haven’t known each other for very long, but Ander already couldn’t imagine his life without him in it, even if they were just friends.

Omar turned back towards him with a raised brow and a slight smirk, “I don’t know...you think you can handle being just friends?”

“Hey you kissed me first, remember? As long as you’re able to keep your hands to yourself, I don’t see why not...” Ander smirked back, raising his own brow in a challenge. Omar rolled his eyes at his cockiness and let out a short laugh. 

“Fine. Friends then.”

Ander watched as Omar walked back into the store before grabbing his bike and heading home. Although it wasn’t what he was hoping for, Ander was grateful to at least have some kind of answer for Omar’s behavior and reassurance that this wasn’t a one-sided thing. And it wasn’t like he would never get to see or hang out with Omar again. They still had school, and while they are already pretending to be working on a project together, Ander thought that it probably wouldn’t be too hard for Omar to convince his father they need to “work on their project” again soon.

***

As the week dragged by, Ander began to feel more and more confused as to what Omar’s definition of friends was.

They barely spoke. Omar rarely responded to his texts, and when he did, they were mostly short, one-worded responses. When Ander suggested they could “work on their project” together after school, Omar just changed the subject. It was all so irritating and confusing, and was certainly spoiling the hope he had after hearing Omar’s confession at the store.

By Friday, Ander was practically shaking with anxiety. What if Omar had changed his mind? What if he didn’t really want to be friends anymore or have anything to do with Ander but just didn’t know how to tell him?

His mind was moving so fast with ‘what ifs’ that he hardly heard Polo speaking to him.

“Hello?? Ander are you even listening to me?”

Ander blinked hard out of his own imagination and was met with a tired and frustrated Polo staring blankly at him. 

“Sorry, what?”

“What’s wrong with you, huh? For fuck’s sake...between you and Guzman it’s still like only getting half a person,” he grunted.

There was a bitterness to his voice that threw Ander off. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but then again, he hadn’t been paying much attention to things that didn’t involve Omar lately. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, dude?”

Polo sighed before turning in his seat to face Ander directly, his expression a bit softer now.

“It’s just... I mean that, well, you already know how Guzman’s been since Marina took off. He’s still struggling with it too. And now you-- well, I don’t even know what the hell your problem is, but now you’ve been mopey all week too and it’s exhausting trying to take care of the both of you.”

As Ander took in his friends’ words, he realized just how caught up he’d been in Omar. Since the day they met, he was all Ander has thought about. He’d been shutting out his friends and not even realizing it. He looked at Polo for a moment and saw how distressed he truly looked, guilt sweeping over him as he put a hand on Polo’s shoulder in an effort to comfort him.

“Sorry, man. I’ve just been caught up in some stuff lately...tennis and all you know.” Ander mumbled, “What do you say the three of us do something tonight? Just like old times, yeah?”

Polo smiled and nodded in agreement. Ander had wanted to keep his weekend open in case Omar wanted to hang out, but at this point he doubted that would happen. Besides, his friends needed him, and he needed them too to keep him from obsessing over Omar any longer. So, pulling Guzman into the conversation, they made their plan for the evening.

Ander was honestly looking forward to their night they had planned and found himself feeling lighter as he walked down the hallway towards the locker room to grab his tennis bag before heading home. He was responding to a message from Polo, telling him, _yes, he’ll bring some weed,_ and _of course they’ll have to hide it from Guzman_ when he turned the corner and saw Omar from across the hall chatting with a girl as they walked towards him. 

It was the first time he’s actually run into him at school, at least by accident that is. He felt his pulse quicken as he got closer. Although he was still kind of irritated with Omar at the moment for ignoring him all week, he couldn’t deny his excitement seeing him in the hallway, his stomach doing happy little spins. Maybe they would get a chance to hang out this weekend after all.

Ander smiled and slowed his pace as Omar finally made eye contact with him. He came to a stop in the middle of the hallway, as Omar and the girl kept walking towards him. 

“Omar, hey!” 

All the excitement he felt evaporated as he watched Omar nod his head in acknowledgement and continue walking right past him. He stood there in the middle of the hallway, feeling like he just got slapped across the face. He couldn’t believe Omar just walked right past him without saying a word. He clenched his jaw and shoved his way through the crowd of people to the nearest exit. He just needed to get the hell out of there. 

*** 

“Alright, drink up boys!”

There was a collective groan shared between Guzman and Ander as Polo brought over their third tequila shot within the last ten minutes. Although, Ander didn’t quite mind so much actually. If he were being honest, the sooner he got drunk, the sooner he could forget about the giant pit in his stomach that had been there ever since he watched Omar walk past him in the hallway at school earlier that day.

They had been at it for a while now already, and Ander was starting to feel a little lighter and more relaxed, but not quite there yet. He threw back the shot, enjoying the way the liquor tingled his throat as it went down and laughing at the scrunched up face Guzman made as he sucked on a lime wedge.

As the night went on, Ander began to feel like his usual self again. The alcohol combined with a few secret puffs from the joint he brought, giving him a nice buzz as they played games and talked about anything and everything. 

The conversation had fallen into a comfortable silence, and Ander was plotting his excuse to escape outside and finish the rest of his joint when Polo had apparently decided on what their next topic of conversation would be.

“Ander, what was up with you this week, huh? I’ve gotten used to his grumpy moods, but now you too? What’s going on with you?”

The question took him by surprise as he looked at his friends, both waiting for his response. He trilled his lips with a deep sigh as he tried to think of what to say. 

“Ah, you know, same old shit. Tennis and my dad…” he finally mustered.

“No, no. That’s not it.” Guzman cut in, “I saw you on Monday and you were in a good mood even though you said the tournament didn’t go very well and your dad was pissed at you.” 

Ander glared at Guzman, but Guzman didn’t falter, he was in full protective mode, and Ander knew he wouldn’t let up until he got the truth, or at least a believable truth. When he looked to Polo, he saw genuine concern in his eyes as well. He felt his heart swell a bit, realizing just how much he needs them. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or the weed, or the guilt he felt -- probably a combination of all three-- but the words were out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying.

“Fine, I uh...met someone…” he stammered, nervously looking between the two boys at their excited expressions before gluing his eyes to the floor, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out...so. Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Why not?” they both asked in unison.

When Ander didn’t answer, Guzman continued, “Well at least tell us who this mystery girl is. Is it someone from school?”

Ander felt himself wince just slightly at the word “girl,” a motion Polo noticed immediately, cocking an eyebrow in his direction.

“Um, yeah, it’s someone from school...” 

Taking in their expectant and eager faces, Ander picked up his almost full beer and chugged it, anything to help him with the courage to finish the rest of his sentence. He cleared his throat and then with a final ‘fuck it,’ he told them.

“Omar. His name is Omar.”

He held his breath for what felt like an eternity before watching the big dopey grins spread across their faces, feeling his own grin pulling on his cheeks.

“Pay up, Guzman!” Polo shouted, insistently tapping on his forearm. Guzman rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet.

“Wait, what the fuck? You guys were betting on my sexuality?! Assholes!”

The two boys laughed and Ander grabbed the throw pillows next to him and threw them in their direction, causing both Guzman and Polo to gang up on him with their own pillows. 

With a final whack on the back on Ander’s head, he holds up his hands in surrender. 

“Ow! Okay, okay, I give up!”

“Good. That’s for not telling us sooner.” Guzman gave him a pointed look and Ander could see the layer of hurt behind it. “You know you can tell us anything, right? We’re your best friends.”

Ander nodded his head, “Yeah, I know. I just...didn’t know how,” he answered weakly.

Polo got up and grabbed three more beers from the fridge and handed them out. 

“Wait, so, why do you say it’s not going to work out with...what was his name again? Omar?”

Before Ander could respond, Guzman sat up straight with wide eyes, “Wait. Omar? Omar as in Nadia’s brother? _That_ Omar?”

Ander nodded his head, having forgotten about Guzman’s obsession with Nadia and realizing it might be easier to talk to them about this than he thought. 

“Shit, man. Their parents are a bit…” he trailed off, giving Ander a sympathetic look.

“Exactly!” 

Ander told them the whole story; how they met and what happened at his house-- his face turning a bright red when he told them they had kissed. He told them how confused and hurt he felt from Omar’s behavior all week, even after they decided on being just friends. 

“Who knew dating guys was just as complicated as dating girls?” Guzman joked as he brought over another round of shots. 

“I say forget him.” Polo shrugged, “He obviously isn’t coming out anytime soon, and he’d have to be an idiot to let you get away.” 

Ander rolled his eyes at the playful wink Polo gave him. Even though he reluctantly agreed with what he was saying, he knew it was easier said than done.

***

Once the two other boys finally passed out in their drunken state, Ander stumbled out to the back patio to finally finish off the rest of his joint. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders after finally opening up and talking to them about Omar. Hearing what they had to say and being able to talk it out was great and all, but if he were being honest, he’d rather be able to talk to Omar about it directly. 

He fumbled in his pants pocket for his phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen as he opened up his messages and without letting himself think twice, he sent a message to Omar: “I miss you.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omar makes a sacrifice.

_"I miss you."_

Omar stared at the text for what felt like hours, repeating the words in his head over and over, feeling as though someone was sticking a knife in his heart with each word, twisting and hitting a new spot each time. 

It was late, Omar had just gotten back from Samuel’s place when he heard the message come through. He already felt like shit from the way he reacted to Ander in the hall earlier that day and how he had been treating him all week, but this-- this feeling was much worse. 

The truth was, he didn’t trust himself to speak to Ander in person, he could hardly bear to even see him. He had been peeking around corners all week and waiting in bathrooms until after the bell rang just to avoid running into him, although that was too much to ask apparently. 

Omar could only stand to look at him for a moment, but in those short seconds, he could see how Ander had looked so eager and excited to see him, despite their not so pleasant interactions throughout the week. He had felt a lump in his throat that would not allow him to speak. Luckily, his friend Paula whom he was walking with was all too wrapped up in her own story to notice Omar’s dilemma.

He had forced himself to keep with her pace as they walked down the hall, even though his mind screamed at him to run the opposite direction. His ears rang as he heard Ander call out to him, but all he could manage was a short nod of acknowledgement as he kept walking. It would have been rude to stop and talk to someone else while his friend was already telling him something anyways, right? At least that’s what he had told himself to try and subdue the guilt he felt.

He was already devastated enough, and seeing him, talking to him, it would have only made things worse. Which was why he had been avoiding Ander and his queries of hanging out, even as just friends. That, and of course fear.

***

Shortly after Ander had left the store on that Sunday, Omar was shocked to see yet another Munoz man standing in front of him. 

“Hello, Mr. Munoz. Nice to see you…” he stammered, both confused and intrigued as to why he was there, as the store was not within casual drop by distance from Ander’s house.

Ander’s father stared down at him with contempt. 

“Hello. Omar, was it?” 

Omar nodded his head yes, chancing a quick glance over to where his father was standing in the back aisle, taking inventory. He noticed Mr. Munoz followed his line of vision before turning back towards him, which made him feel a bit uneasy.

“C-can I help you with something?”

“Yes, actually you can.” he said, very matter-of-fact. Omar raised his eyebrows in question, waiting for him to continue.

“I need you to leave Ander alone.”

“Excuse me?” he whispered, still very aware of his father’s presence nearby and not wanting him to overhear their conversation.

“I don’t want you hanging out with my son anymore.” 

Omar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It made him angry, not just for him, but for Ander, although he’s certain Ander had no idea this was happening.

“Sorry but I don’t think you have the right to decide who he hangs out with…”

“I think I do,” he cut in, “especially when that person interferes with his future. Now listen to me, Ander will get a tennis scholarship and play at a top university, which will likely be far away from here. But you-- you are a distraction. And I cannot have that.”

Omar shook his head in disbelief. A distraction? How was he causing a distraction to Ander’s ability to play tennis? 

“I don’t understand…” Omar mumbled, his eyes switching between Ander’s father and his own, having moved to a different aisle. 

Mr. Munoz gave him a sly smile, turning his head towards Omar’s father briefly before narrowing his eyes at Omar.

“Your family is Muslim, right?” he didn’t stop to wait for a response, “Would you say that your religion is typically accepting of same sex relationships, or no?” 

Omar clenched his jaw as he glared at Ander’s father, his face stone cold.

“Ah, didn’t think so. It’s simple, really. You stay away from Ander, or else I’d be happy to have a conversation with your father over there and show him some interesting photos I took earlier…”

Omar watched in humiliation as Ander’s father held up his cell phone and scrolled through probably ten photos of him and Ander talking outside the store, their clasped hands on full display. Omar cursed himself for being so stupid, so weak, when it came to Ander. He didn’t even want to think about who else could have possibly seen them.

“The two of you looked pretty cozy I’d say, holding hands and all…or did you think no one could see you two?” he let out a humorless laugh.

“Please, don’t do that…” Omar pleaded.

“So, do we have an understanding then?” 

Omar nodded his head yes, his jaw clenched in anger at the threat. 

“Excellent. Oh, and Omar? I’ll be watching you…just to make sure you keep up your end of the deal.”

Omar snorted his disdain, still not trusting himself to speak for fear of causing a scene. Ander’s father winked and then turned towards his father and called out, “Have a great day!” in a cheery tone before leaving the store.

***

Omar could recall his hands shaking for almost a solid hour after the encounter with Ander’s father. His own father scolded him for dropping some of the produce as he tried to restock inventory with unsteady hands and his mind anywhere but the present.

The week had been exhausting too, dodging Ander in the hallways so they wouldn't see each other, just barely responding to his texts enough to be considered “friendly,” and ignoring his invitations to hang out. He couldn’t bring himself to just not reply at all, not when Ander was completely in the dark about what had happened and about Omar’s fears.

And now, as he stares down at his phone looking at the text from Ander, he feels the hole in his heart ache with longing. He’s not sure how it happened so quickly, but Omar cared so much for this curly headed boy, and he missed him too. Talking with him, laughing with him, kissing him. It’s all he wanted to do, but it would cost him just about everything.

Omar couldn’t bring himself to respond yet. Instead he tossed his phone on the nightstand and collapsed into bed. He laid there, unable to rest his mind, desperate to try and find a solution. An hour had passed, maybe even two or three, Omar honestly didn’t know anymore, he just knew he was nowhere closer to sleep. His body tossed and turned as he let out a soft groan of frustration and pulled the covers over his head.

“Keep still, will you?” he heard Nadia call out in irritation from her side of the room. 

Only a curtain separated their halves of the room, and it didn’t do much to block noise. 

“Sorry….can’t sleep,” he murmured weakly in response.

“Yeah, well neither can I so long as you keep moving.” 

Omar heard her shifting around for a moment and then it was silent again. He did his best to lay still, slowly closing his eyes and trying to think about anything other than Ander and that damned text message.

***

Omar decided he would try and busy himself as much as possible over the weekend. He even volunteered to work longer than he had to at the store, which pleased his father and made Nadia eye him suspiciously. 

He didn’t mind the extra work actually, it helped him try to forget Ander’s text as it threatened to burn a hole through his pants pocket, constantly reminding him of its meaning and the weight it held. He still hadn’t responded yet, and honestly wasn’t sure if he would. He couldn’t tell him he missed him too, that would just encourage Ander more, and Omar wasn’t sure what he could say to make things better without hurting Ander anymore than he already has. 

It was early afternoon, and Omar was mindlessly sweeping the aisles of the store when he looked up and saw the back of a curly haired boy standing at the register with Nadia. His stomach dropped and he quickly ducked behind one of the shelves until he heard Nadia say goodbye to the boy and the bells on the door rang, announcing his departure. 

Omar slowly peeked back at the register to find Nadia giving him a suspicious look before rolling her eyes and continuing what she was doing. Confused, Omar walked over to the window just in time to see the curly boy’s side profile, he wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment that washed over him as he saw it was not Ander, but some other boy.

“Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost or something…”

Nadia’s words snapped Omar out of the trance he was in as he watched the boy disappear around a corner.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine I just...thought he was someone else…” he trailed off, looking back out the window at the street corner.

Suddenly the realization hit that Ander just might actually show up at the store, a thought that both excited him and frightened him. What if his father follows him here again and sees them? No. Omar couldn’t let that happen. He knew he had to respond to Ander’s text before he got any ideas. Before it was too late. 

“Hey, uh, can you cover for me for a little bit? I need to do something.”

He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned and headed towards the stairs that led to their apartment. 

“Omar, wait!” Nadia called out, taking a few steps toward him as he stopped in his tracks and turned back towards her. 

She rang her hands for a second before reaching up to stroke at the bottom of her hijab, a nervous tick she used to do as a child. Omar raised his brows in confusion at her motion, waiting for her to continue. 

“You know, you can talk to me about things, right? I mean, like problems and stuff. You can talk to me about them...if you want. I, uhm, I’m here if you wanna talk...”

Omar looked at his sister and saw the sincerity in her eyes. Him and Nadia were never very close (other than in proximity), but he had noticed how different she had become ever since starting at Las Encinas. She seemed braver, more outspoken, and more determined than ever. He respected her more like this. It made him kind of want to be her friend, in a weird way. He took a deep breath, stepping forward and pulling her in for a hug, taking both of them by surprise. 

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” he whispered into her hijab before pulling back and heading back upstairs to his room.

***

Omar paced back and forth for a few minutes, brainstorming what to say. He pulled out his phone and opened Ander’s message again, but seeing it only made what he was about to do even worse. He closed out his messages and opened up a new note to type out his response so that he wouldn’t have to keep looking at the sweet words that made his heart both soar and break at the same time. 

After rereading and retyping at least eight times, he copied and pasted the message over from his notes to Ander and hit send before he could talk himself out of it.

_“Ander, I think it’s best if we aren’t friends after all. It’ll be better for the both of us. I hope you can understand. Please don’t contact me again.”_

He held his breath as he watched the two checkmarks pop up, indicating the message had been delivered, and within seconds he watched as they turned blue, letting him know Ander had already seen his message. He squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of an incoming message or phone call from Ander in protest, but nothing. He waited a few more minutes, preferring to receive a response in the privacy of his room rather than in the store, but still nothing. 

Omar sullenly made his way back down to the store and finished out his shift quite possibly more anxious than he had started it, the harsh realization hitting that Ander may not ever respond.

***

Five days had passed without any word from Ander. Omar couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, he had expected Ander to fight back considering how he had fought before for them to remain friends. He knew he should be relieved, because it meant that Ander took his words seriously, and that he had one less thing to stress about with Ander’s father. But instead, he felt guilt weighing down on him for sending such a harsh message over text, even though he knew he would have been too cowardly to do so in person. Ander didn’t deserve this coldness from him though, and for that, Omar hated himself. 

With Ander’s silence, he had just about given up on trying to hide in the hallways to avoid him, feeling reluctantly confident that Ander wouldn’t approach him if they did happen to cross paths, although he’d still prefer to avoid it if possible.

He chatted with Paula as they walked to their next class, suddenly remembering his notebook he left in his gym locker, which had his notes for their upcoming test in it. 

“Ah, dammit. Will you wait for me while I run in and grab it?”

Paula rolled her eyes fondly at him and nodded her head with approval and he took off into the locker room. He was zipping up his book bag when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Omar…?”

Omar’s head whipped around to find Ander standing awkwardly in between the benches. His eyes darted down to his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously with one hand. He looked small, disheartened. It made Omar’s stomach turn. 

“Hi,” he whispered back.

Ander seemed to be battling himself in his head for a moment, his courage eventually triumphing over whatever it was up against. He looked up with determination and took a few steps toward him, but leaving enough space to give Omar an escape if he needed.

“I want to respect your wishes and leave you be, but--” he took a deep breath and let it out as he spoke quickly, “I just can’t figure out what happened and it’s driving me mad. If it was the text I sent last weekend...I was drunk, okay? I was just drunk and feeling weird about not getting to see you or talk to you all week when--” he looked down again, insecurity taking over, “when you said we’d still be friends...that’s all.”

Omar had to resist the urge to go up to him and pull him into a tight hug. He hated seeing Ander like this, and hated even more that he was the cause of it. He didn’t know what to say, he just stood there like an idiot, biting down on his cheek as hard as he dared to keep himself from breaking. 

“I know you have your reasons with your father and all. I get it, really. I know that’s a lot of pressure and I’m so sorry you have to deal with that,” Ander slowly began to walk closer, careful and with purpose. Omar felt frozen in place as Ander continued speaking, his voice lower than before, “but we can be careful. No one would have to know…”

“Ander,” he sighed, trying to sound angry while his mind betrayed him, playing visions of them secretly holding hands under a table, sneaking off to make out, playful exchanges across a room using nothing but their eyes. It was all deliciously tempting. He saw the hopeful look in Ander’s eyes as his lips began to turn into a grin. He missed that smile more than he ever knew. 

Suddenly Ander was standing only a foot or two in front of him and Omar was struggling to breathe normally. Ander’s scent, oaky with a hint of spice, evaded his senses. He could hardly think straight anymore. He watched as Ander licked his lips, his eyes going soft as he reached forward and grabbed Omar’s hand. 

“I would never let anything bad happen to you, Omar. I could protect you…” he whispered, his face full of determination and sincerity. Omar knew then that Ander would do anything for him, and that terrified him.

“Besides, I know some secret places…” Ander smirked now, making Omar’s pulse quicken at the implication of what they could do in those secret places. He felt hypnotized by his proximity, and dangerously close to giving in.

Omar felt him lace their fingers together and was immediately hit with the memory of seeing the photos of them holding hands that Ander’s father has on his phone, and the very real threat that came with them. It was enough to pull him out of the fantasy bubble he and Ander were momentarily enjoying. 

He took a step back and looked around the empty locker room that someone could easily walk into at any moment, and realized how very _uncareful_ they were being amidst literally having a conversation about how careful they’d be. It was the wake-up call Omar needed to remind him why he was doing all this in the first place, why this couldn’t happen. 

“It’s not that...I-- I’m actually seeing someone, someone else…” Omar lied quickly. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he even said it. He watched as the shocked look on Ander’s face twisted into hurt and anger as he slowly backed away from him while Omar continued to spurt out lies.

“It just sort of happened...he’s older, doesn’t go to school here. He has a place of his own on the other side of town...it’s just, easier, okay? I’m sorry, Ander...” he finished weakly, unable to look Ander in the eye any longer. 

The air was charged as neither one of them dared to speak, both still trying to process Omar’s words. 

Omar finally opened his mouth to speak, the silence becoming unbearable, even though he had no idea what to say. However, before any words could come out, he heard Ander clear his throat, his voice sounding hoarse and empty.

“You’re right, it would be best if we weren’t friends…goodbye Omar.”

Ander quickly turned on his heel and was out the door before Omar could even react. He wanted to ram his head in a locker, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. Instead, he turned and slammed his locker door shut with as much force as he could, and kicked his book bag across the room in frustration. His chest heaved with adrenaline as he collapsed on the nearest bench, pressing shaky palms into his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. 

“Omar? Everything okay in there?” he heard Paula shout out through the locker room door.

“Yeah, uh, everything’s fine! I’ll be out in a minute!”

He quickly stood up and ran over to where his book bag was laying, it’s contents scattered across the floor.

“Well, hurry up, will you? I can’t be late again!” she called out.

Omar quickly shoved his things haphazardly back into his bag, tossing it over his shoulder and taking one last deep breath before heading for the door.

Paula was leaning against the wall as Omar walked out and he gave her a forced smile. 

“You okay? I heard some commotion in there. You didn’t trip over a bench or something, did you? Your face is all red too...”

“Ha ha, very funny. No, uhm...my bag fell open and all my things flew everywhere...it’s fine though. Ready?” 

She eyed him skeptically for a moment before looking back down at her phone as they walked to class. Omar was silent as his brain still struggled to comprehend everything that had just happened. 

“Omar? Did you hear what I just said?” 

Omar blinked hard, having not realized that he had zoned out and looking at Paula’s expectant face.

“I said, that girl Lucrecia is having a party this weekend and apparently her house is amazing. That one girl that I told you about from my drama class, Cayetana, well she’s good friends with her and extended the invite! You’re going to come with me, right?” 

Omar had never met Lucrecia, but he knew who she was. Everyone did. He’s heard Nadia talk about her too, and not in a good way. He was just about to reject the invitation when Paula began to plead.

“Please, Omar? I don’t want to go alone, us scholarship kids have to stick together too, right? You’ve been sulking for the past like two weeks for whatever reason and this is the perfect excuse to blow off some steam, yeah? Besides, wouldn’t you rather have free fancy people alcohol versus the same cheap beer you usually drink?”

Omar scoffed at his friend as he considered the offer. He’s had a hell of a week, and was feeling even more on edge since his interaction with Ander. He wouldn’t mind getting drunk and making fun of all the dumb things rich people spend their money on. It had become a fun game they came up with, as they both come from lower class families. He considered the offer, it was either that or drinking his sorrows away in a shady bar by himself.

“Fine, I’m in as long as you promise to not let me go home if I get too drunk. My parents would kill me…”

“Deal!”

Omar found himself looking forward to the party despite the devastation he still felt in his heart. He knew it wouldn’t help to continue sulking over what could have been. A night out with his friend seemed like just the thing he needed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander takes a stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Omg this chapter is finally fucking ready” - you and me both
> 
> Thanks for your patience on this one y’all. It took much longer than I anticipated to finish, but I am happy with how it turned out and bonus: it’s my longest chapter yet!
> 
> (Y’all said you wanted more Ander/Guzman/Polo scenes right??)

Ander does _not_ sulk the entire rest of the day. 

But maybe just a little.

How could he not? He had put himself out there— _heart on a silver fucking platter_ — and Omar still rejected him. And no, it wasn’t that he was just too afraid to be with anyone, because he had someone now. Someone that wasn’t Ander.

So maybe Ander sulks for the rest of the day, not talking to anyone because he thinks that if he were to open his mouth to speak, he’d just end up screaming. 

When he had spotted Omar just ahead of him in the hallway earlier, his chest tightened by the second— his heart still scarred from Omar’s message, asking him not to reach out to him again and telling him that they couldn’t even be friends. He had grown used to the pain in his chest and the knot in his stomach over the past few days, but something wasn’t adding up. The pain, while still very much present, had dulled out as the questions began to burn through his mind, exhausting him to the point of near insanity. 

Something had changed. He just couldn’t figure out what. 

He had watched Omar go into the locker room and just knew he had to follow him. It was only once he stood only a few feet from him, looking into his shocked eyes, that he realized he had no clue what he would even say at this point. 

What was there to say?

He debated for a moment turning around and leaving, but he couldn’t waste this rare opportunity. They were alone. He had to do something. His words surprised him as they came out of his mouth, but he still meant them. He knows to his core that he meant it when he said he would never let anything bad happen to Omar; that he would protect him. For a moment he thought that he saw Omar smile and his face flush right before he pulled away and crushed Ander’s heart one last time.

He wasn’t exactly mad at Omar.

Okay, he wasn’t _that_ mad at Omar. 

Mainly he just felt betrayed. He thought they had a special connection. He thought that when Omar had told him he had feelings for him, that they were as strong as his own feelings. 

So maybe he was wrong for assuming, and maybe he was mainly mad at himself.

***

“I swear to God, Ander, you better not be trying to ditch at the last second. We’ll be at your house in fifteen minutes and you’d better be dressed and ready to go and not sulking like a little brat still.”

“I’m not sulking…” Ander mumbled into the phone receiver to his best friend, arm dramatically thrown across his face as he laid in bed.

“Fifteen minutes, Ander.” 

He groaned as the phone line went dead before he could protest any further. It was Saturday night, and a party was the absolute last place he wanted to be at right now. He had stupidly agreed to go earlier in the week, before he had his heart shattered, and now all he wanted to do was hide under the covers and pretend he doesn’t exist. He should have known Guzman and Polo would refuse to let that happen. 

He counted to ten in his head and then pushed himself up out of bed, dragging his feet to his closet to find something to wear. As much as he didn’t want to go, he knew Guzman would make him even more miserable for ditching than he felt now.

Ander was attempting to tame his unruly curls when he heard two pairs of footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Good, you’re dressed. I was prepared to have to pick out your clothes myself. Although, I am a bit disappointed. I was hoping I could finally get you to wear something that’s not fucking Lacoste.” 

Guzman eyed the crocodile logo on his shirt and gave him a disapproving look as he walked past him into Ander’s bedroom, Polo following closely behind. Ander self-consciously ran his hands down the front of his black and white striped shirt and tried not to frown at his friend's scrutiny over his wardrobe. He’s very much aware that ninety percent of his closet has that damn crocodile logo on it, but it’s one of very few luxury brands that Ander could afford to buy. While all the other kids at school wear Prada and Armani, Ander stuck to his Lacoste. 

He followed the two into his room, grabbed his jacket and sighed, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

***

The party was already in full swing once they arrived. Ander had only been to Lu’s house a handful of times, and each time it seemed to look even bigger and more extravagant than the last. It was all sleek edges and oversized artwork, nothing like his parent’s moderate cottage. Sure, they had money too, and they were certainly comfortable. But he was always reminded of the different levels of comfort and the stark contrast between his family and his friends whenever he would visit them. 

They each grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked around for a while, saying hi to various friends and classmates that they passed by. 

“Could you at least _pretend_ like you’re having a good time? For fuck’s sake, lighten up, will you?” 

Ander scowled at Guzman over the top of his beer as he downed the remainder of its contents. 

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” he countered. 

“Yes, we all know how anti-social you are, Ander.” Polo mocked, “But you need a night out of your own head. I can practically see the stress oozing out of your ears.” 

Polo reached over and flicked his ear for emphasis, while Ander batted his hand away and scoffed. He knew he was being poor company, but he couldn’t help it. He knew his friends were just trying to look out for him and cheer him up. And maybe Polo was right, he did need a break from his own thoughts. Besides, it’s been a while since he’s been out with all of their friends, even including Lu and Carla. He straightened up and looked between his two best friends and knew he wouldn’t be able to tell them no. 

“Yeah, okay. You’re right. But if you expect me to be able to relax, we’re going to need something stronger.” He turned to Guzman now with a smirk, “Let’s go find the good stuff.” 

A wicked smile crept across Guzman’s face as Polo slung his arm around Ander’s shoulders with a big smile and pulled him in, ruffling his curls. Ander playfully shoved him off and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to undo any stray curls as they both followed Guzman through the crowd to the other side of the house. Ander and Polo kept watch as Guzman raided Lu’s father’s liquor cabin. 

***

With a now half empty bottle of bourbon in hand, Ander realized how much fun he was actually having. They were gathered near the back door that led to the lavish infinity pool and laughing at the ridiculous story Polo was telling them when Ander noticed Guzman’s face light up. Intrigued by what— or _who_ — could make Guzman smile like that, Ander turned around and followed his line of vision. 

Through the crowd, he spotted Nadia and couldn’t help but smile as he watched her eyes find Guzman, her face equally lighting up. He liked them together. They were an odd match, but it made sense somehow. He watched as she turned to her right and reached out to someone, pulling them close and leaning over to tell them something. His heart jumped up his throat when he recognized who it was. 

Omar. Omar was here. At Lu’s house. 

He hadn’t even considered that Omar might be at the same party since he didn’t know Lu. But Nadia does. The wheels slowly turned in his head and it seemed as though time had stopped, trapping him in this purgatory of panic and excitement. 

A firm hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality and he knew Guzman saw him too. Guzman flashed him a sympathetic look, and Ander just gave him a nod, silently telling him he’ll be okay and hoping at least one of them believed it.

“Ehmm….hello? What the fuck are you two looking at?” Polo whispered harshly.

“Omar is here...” Ander mumbled, unable to keep the pain out of his voice. 

Polo’s eyes went wide in excitement. “No shit! Where? I still don’t know what this guy even looks like.”

“He’s um….standing over there, by Nadia. Black leather jacket...”

Ander’s voice trailed off, his throat feeling dry just looking at him. 

“Ah. _Oh..._ damn, Ander, he’s not bad at all, right?” Polo purred with a low whistle, elbowing him in the ribcage. “I can see why you’re so hung up on him.” 

Ander’s head snapped to the left where Polo was standing next to him and he watched as he checked out Omar, knots forming uncomfortably in his stomach and his face heating with jealousy. Sometimes he forgets that Polo likes guys too, and suddenly an unpleasant thought crossed his mind. 

Because of course Omar is attractive, that wasn’t a secret, most of all to Ander. But maybe Omar had this effect on lots guys, not just him. Maybe Ander wasn’t special after all, he was just another guy who wanted him. Omar could probably take his pick of the men that wanted him. In fact, he did. And it wasn’t Ander that he chose. He chose someone else; someone he felt could protect him and keep his secret better than Ander could. 

He couldn’t help but feel hurt at the lack of trust Omar had in him. Although, right here, right now, with the liquor coursing through his veins, Ander was certain that if he and Omar were still a thing, he would be having a very hard time keeping his hands to himself. 

As if he could sense Ander’s inappropriate thoughts forming, Omar finally looked their way; his eyes locked with Ander’s for a moment before he quickly looked away again. Ander tried to ignore the way his heart ached and his stomach dropped.

“Aren’t you going to go talk to him?”

Ander could see Omar struggling to not look over again, busing himself talking to the girl Ander recognized as one of his friends from school and Nadia. His head sunk, eyes focused on the floor as he spoke.

“No. He uh, he is seeing someone else now.” he swallowed thickly as the words came out of his mouth. Saying them was almost just as bad as hearing them.

Polo scoffed, mumbling something Ander couldn’t quite catch under his breath.

“Fuck. This is why you’ve been sulking so much lately, isn’t it? Why didn’t you say anything?” Guzman’s voice was both concerned and accusing.

He shrugged, not knowing what to say. He was embarrassed to tell his friends about the rejection after finally opening up about his feelings. Ander reached over and grabbed the bottle of bourbon from Polo’s hand and took a long swig, needing something to calm his nerves. 

“Well, his loss dude. I’m sure there are more than just two gay guys at our school. You’ll meet someone else.”

Ander gave Guzman a curt smile and a nod, appreciating how supportive his friends were, even though the thought of being with someone else left a bad taste in his mouth. 

He took another sloppy swig from the bottle, the liquor burning as it made its way down his throat. He was about to suggest they go find some of their other friends when Polo reached up and wiped a rogue drip of the brown liquor from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Ander watched as Polo then brought his thumb to his own lips, sucking it clean with a wink.

He stared at Polo in shock, his brain unable to form words as it was still trying to catch up with whatever the fuck that was.

“Hold up, that’s not what I meant! You two are _so not allowed_ to start dating. I refuse to be a constant third wheel.”

Ander’s eyes went wide as he looked from Polo to Guzman and back to Polo, because no. He began to panic internally because he really did not need Polo making shit weird between them. He had enough problems for the moment. 

“Will you both relax? Just trust me, it’s already working...” Polo laughed, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Uhh...what exactly is working? What is it that you are trying to do here?” 

Polo took another step towards him, crowding his space and reaching out to run his fingers lightly through the shorter curls on the nape of his neck and Ander has half a mind to shove him because _what the fuck was happening?_

He watched Polo’s wicked smile as he trailed his hand from his neck to his chest and held it there.

“Polo, what are you—” 

“Shh.” Polo silenced him, placing a finger across Ander’s lips and only continuing once he had his full attention again. “Omar hasn’t stopped watching you for one second. I can practically feel the daggers he’s shooting at me with his eyes at this very moment just for touching you...”

Ander went to turn his head to look towards Omar, but Polo was faster, his hand on his lips quickly stopping him from looking Omar’s way and holding it there.

“What are you saying?” Ander questioned.

Polo rolled his eyes, slowly releasing his grip on Ander’s jaw and slowly trailing it down his neck.

“I can guarantee you one thing. There’s no way in hell Omar is thinking of his boyfriend right now.”

Ander swallowed thickly, the liquor making his brain a little slower than usual but he gets it now, Polo is trying to make Omar jealous. And Ander, for fuck’s sake, feels giddy at Polo’s words. He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him at how absurd this all was as he allowed himself to relax a little bit again. 

“You tricky bastard. I sometimes forget how scary good you are at this shit from all those weird games you and Carla used to play.” Ander eyed him suspiciously and bumped his shoulder with his own.

Polo gave a conceited shrug and flashed him a wink. Ander could practically hear Guzman roll his eyes from behind him.

“Oh, please. It’s not that hard to make someone jealous.” 

Both Ander and Polo turned towards Guzman in question. 

“Please, by all means, show us your seduction skills Guzman.” Polo teased as he took a step back and presented Ander like some kind of prize. 

Guzman, never one to turn down a challenge— not even a _‘fake seduce your gay best friend’_ challenge, apparently— took a step towards Ander and awkwardly ran a heavy hand down his chest. It hardly lasted five seconds before both Ander and Polo burst out in a fit out laughter. Guzman huffed out in annoyance at their outburst and pushed Ander away, causing him to stumble into Polo as he mumbled an insult under his breath. Ander and Polo nearly doubled over in laughter at Guzman’s pouting. 

“I’m sorry, Guzman. It’s just that...you’re so… _straight_.” Ander managed to get out in between breaths. 

Polo began to mock Guzman’s efforts, running a clumsy hand down Ander’s chest, eliciting another fit of laughter as Ander mimicked his own version of Guzman’s attempt on Polo.

“Whatever. You guys are assholes.”

“No, you both are idiots. Omar knows you guys are my friends, there’s no way he’d believe I would ever be with either of you.” Ander countered once he was able to catch his breath again. 

He smiled despite his condescending tone at the ridiculous lengths in which his friends were willing to go for him, when he heard Lu’s voice appear shouting out at them.

“Ah! Hello darlings!” She leaned over to give each of them a kiss on the cheek and exchanged pleasantries. 

“While I’m so glad you all made it, I’m curious to know just exactly what is going on over here?” Lu looked between the three of them suspiciously before spotting the bottle of expensive bourbon in Ander’s hand, raising her brow at him in question. 

Ander immediately shoved the bottle into Guzman’s chest, as if she didn’t already know that Guzman was the one responsible for stealing it. Luckily she just rolled her eyes and waved her hand as if it was nothing. 

“Well, I just want to say that I sure hope I was the only one unfortunate enough to watch whatever the hell you three were just doing. It looked like you were ready for a threesome, although Guzman, you looked more like a starved zombie who’s just seen human flesh for the first time.”

She flashed him her signature bitch smile while Polo and Ander burst into laughter again and Guzman rolled his eyes, flipping her off. She turned her attention to Ander and Polo now, clearly expecting an explanation. 

“Oh umm...we were just, trying to make someone jealous for And--ow!”

Ander quickly punched Polo in the arm in an attempt to cut him off, but the damage was already done. Lu’s face immediately perked up with intrigue and Ander shot Polo a death glare. Lu was the last person he wanted to know about his personal love life.

“And you thought that these two could make someone jealous? Really?” she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Guzman and Polo, and shot Ander a deadpan look. “Here, allow me...” she handed Polo her martini glass and sauntered over to him.

“Oh, um...no, that’s okay...really.” Ander tried but Lu was already in character. 

She began to caress his cheek with one hand, and snaked her other hand around his neck. He could feel his face burning bright red with embarrassment while Polo and Guzman roared with laughter behind her. Her face immediately turned cold as she snapped her head in their direction. 

“Do you mind? I’m trying to help out our dear friend here.” 

She turned back towards Ander again with a plastered smile, getting back into character but Ander couldn’t handle this any longer. He grabbed her hands and put them at her sides.

“I don’t really think this is helping Lu...”

“Excuse me? Don’t you dare try to tell me that wasn’t sexy!” she scoffed, clearly offended. 

“No no, I mean, I’m sure it was, it's just…” he trailed off, not sure what else to say because now he’s backed himself into a corner.

Lu looked at him expectantly, her feelings hurt. Ander let out an agitated breath because apparently this was happening.

“I just don’t think _he_ would be too threatened by your flirting…”

Lu stared at him blankly for a moment, her head tilting just slightly to the left as she absorbed the information. Ander held her gaze, silently begging for her to understand what he was saying so he didn’t need to say it out loud. She looked him up and down, making Ander feel exposed for a moment before her mouth curved into a smile again and her tongue poked out behind her teeth.

“I knew there had to be a good reason why you never tried to make a move on me.” 

Ander let out a breath of relief along with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well. It’s not you, it’s me,” he joked weakly. 

Lu smiled widely and pulled him in for a bone cracking hug, complete with a kiss on the cheek. 

“Don’t you worry, handsome. I have something for you that I think you’ll like.” 

With a wink she turned on her heel and grabbed her martini glass from Polo and disappeared through the crowd.

Guzman soon disappeared after her to go find Nadia.

***

Ander had been doing a pretty decent job so far resisting the urge to look over at Omar. He and his friend he came with had apparently decided to stick around in the same area, tucked away a bit from the crowd. At times when the crowd thinned out, they had the perfect view of each other. Despite Ander being very hyper aware of this fact, he made no effort to move spots himself. He didn’t want Omar to know how affected he was by his presence, but he also selfishly wanted to keep an eye on him as well.

Ander had barely been paying attention to the conversation Polo was having with Cayetana when Lu showed back up. She pushed her way through Polo and Caye, pulling along someone behind her. 

“Ander, darling!” she shouted over the music. “This is Jaime. He’s a recent transfer student on scholarship to play on the football team at Las Encinas. Jaime, this is Ander, he’s a tennis superstar and the hottest guy in school.” 

She winked at him and Ander felt his face heat up with embarrassment once again. Lu had on a smug smile, clearly feeling like she was doing Ander a favor. 

“I’m sure you two have plenty in common and if not, well, at least you’re both hot. Have fun!” 

She blew a kiss to Ander and took off into the crowd again. He immediately turned to Polo for help but he had already grabbed Cayetana by the hand and pulled her away, mouthing something at him that Ander couldn’t quite catch. 

And then he was left alone with Jaime. 

He could kill Lu; he was so embarrassed. He picked up his beer and began chugging as much as he could while he tried to come up with an escape plan. He looked around the room for a familiar face that could save him from this situation, however, his eyes naturally found their way to Omar, who was in his same spot from across the room. This time, Ander could clearly see how Omar was watching him intently now, not even bothering to try and hide it. 

He felt more than heard Jaime introduce himself. He had placed one hand on Ander’s shoulder and the other gripped his waist as he leaned in to speak directly into his ear over the loud music before pulling back with a big smile.

Ander mimicked his motion and leaned in close to introduce himself as well. He had to stretch a bit on his toes, as Jaime was a few inches taller than him.

Ander’s eyes flickered between Jaime and Omar for a moment and he watched as Omar’s body language changed completely. He was sitting up straighter now, his brows furrowed in what appeared to be anger. He no longer paid much attention to his friend who seemed to have been trying to have a conversation while he shamelessly kept his eyes on Ander and Jaime. 

Polo’s earlier words rang through his ears, _‘There’s no way in hell Omar is thinking of his boyfriend right now,’_ and he felt a pang of heat deep in his stomach that pleased him as he looked back at Jaime. 

Jaime was an attractive guy. He was a little bit taller than Ander with similar brown curls that fell wildly over his face. He was very much in shape, with clearly defined biceps that Ander could certainly appreciate and muscular legs that were obvious through his tight pants. He had a little crook in the bridge of his nose, which Ander assumed was from a football injury. He was a stereotypical kind of handsome though; the kind that always kind of looked the same, at least to Ander. 

Not like Omar. Omar with his dark, olive complexion coated with a layer of thick black body hair and just a sprinkle of freckles. His wild bushy brows that Ander thought were so charming and interesting. The way that Omar always seemed to have just a bit of a 5 o’clock shadow, no matter what time of day it was. He didn’t look like most other boys Ander knew. He was unique and intriguing and so much more beautiful. Ander had known from the moment he saw him that there was so much more to him, and Ander wanted to know it all. 

Whereas with Jaime, he could just tell that everything there was to know about him was already written on his face and in his appearance. He dressed in the same fancy luxury brands that everyone else in school wore, which for some reason annoyed him. Ander realized he was being unfair. He was judging this guy who seemed to be genuinely interested in talking to him without actually giving him a chance to speak for himself. 

So Ander forced himself to give Jaime his full attention. Or at least try to. Jaime seemed to only be able to speak to Ander with his lips practically glued on his ear and a firm hand on his waist or lower back. He found that he actually didn’t mind the touches, and even leaned into them a bit, encouraging him and keeping his own hand lingering over one of his biceps. Maybe it was just the stream of alcohol coursing through his veins that finally made him more relaxed, or the way Jaime made him feel wanted. Or maybe it was the fact that he could feel Omar’s gaze on him still that caused him to allow Jaime to be much closer to him than he would typically feel comfortable with a stranger.

He wasn’t exactly sure what it was he was trying to do or hoping would happen by shamelessly flirting with Jaime in hopes of making Omar jealous. Because Omar has a boyfriend. So why shouldn’t he let this guy make a move on him? Was he doing it out of spite or anger? Omar has been toying with his heart from the start and Ander was tired of it. Omar had chosen someone else and so could Ander. 

_And yet._

Part of him hoped that if Omar saw that someone else wanted him, that he would realize that he wanted him too. That Omar would march over and claim what was already so obviously his. 

Ander allowed his eyes to wander back over to Omar, his curiosity getting the best of him. It took a moment for some of the crowd to move and reveal him, but Omar was still in the exact same spot he’s been in, his friend nowhere to be seen. His eyes were still trained on Ander as he slowly sipped his drink. The hopeful part of Ander’s heart was frustrated that Omar just sat there, that he hadn’t even tried to approach him once. 

He felt like he needed to do something more. He wanted to provoke him. Force a reaction out of him. 

He quickly turned back towards Jaime, his vision going just slightly blurry from the alcohol. He leaned in close, threading a hand through his shaggy curls and whispered in his ear, “Just kiss me already.”

Thankfully Jaime didn’t need to be told twice as he leaned down and captured his lips. Ander didn’t need much, quickly shutting him down as soon as Jaime tried to deepen the kiss. He couldn’t help the smirk that came across his face, already imaging Omar’s dramatic reaction to seeing him kiss someone else. 

He turned to look at Omar and felt more frustrated than ever as he only saw Omar’s back as he walked away, unable to read his expression. Did he even see? Was he still paying attention? Ander was certain he did. He just had to accept that Omar didn’t react the way he wanted him to. 

He supposed that was his answer then. If Omar didn’t care that he was with someone else than why should he be upset? Here was an attractive guy standing right in front of him that wanted him and wasn’t afraid to show it. While Ander wasn’t quite sure he actually wanted him back, he just knew that he felt lonely. Omar had left an emptiness inside him that ached throughout his entire body and he just wanted it to go away.

Feeling defeated, he excused himself for some fresh air.

“I’m going to grab another drink. Be right back.” He lied smoothly.

Jaime nodded and smiled at him, giving his arm a squeeze as he walked past him. Ander could hardly look at him.

***

He walked out back until he was far enough away so that no one would bother him. He hid behind a large sculpture, lit a cigarette, and leaned his back against the cool concrete base for support. He couldn’t help the disappointment that he felt. It was a stupid idea really, one that he let Polo convince him would work. 

He only felt worse than he did before, now knowing that Omar didn’t care if he was with someone else or not. He closed his eyes momentarily while he took a drag of his cigarette, so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the footsteps getting nearer. 

“Where’s your little pet jock? I thought he was attached to your neck...”

Ander’s stomach dropped as he recognized Omar’s voice. He glared at him as he responded, unable to keep the venom out of his voice, “And where’s your boyfriend? I thought he was discreet enough to bring out in public?”

A moment of silence passed as neither of them answered the other. Ander took another drag off his cigarette and offered it to Omar, who wordlessly took it from him. He watched as Omar took the last few remaining puffs before stomping it out. He couldn’t be certain, but Omar looked drunk. He had a hazy look in his eyes that Ander was unfamiliar with, having only drank with him once before and barely having one beer each. But then again, Ander was a bit drunk himself. 

After another moment of silence, Omar stepped towards him, finally breaking the silence with a humorless laugh.

“That prick doesn’t deserve you.” Omar’s voice was full of disdain.

Ander scoffed. Omar’s words made him angry as he propelled himself off the concrete and took a step towards Omar.

“Yeah? And you do?” he challenged. 

Omar stared into his eyes, his brows furrowing just slightly. A look of guilt flashed across his face for a moment before he responded, “No.” 

His response surprised Ander. He didn’t understand what Omar was trying to say. Does he really think he’s not good enough? That he’s undeserving? 

Ander didn’t have much time to contemplate his meaning before Omar took another step toward him, this time only leaving a few inches between them. 

“But I know he doesn’t make you feel the same way I do. He can’t.” Omar told him, the last part coming out a little less certain than the first part, like he was trying to convince himself of its truth.

Ander swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry. His lips parted just slightly as he tried to speak, but no words came out. Omar’s eyes flickered down to his lips for a split second before his hand snaked behind Ander’s neck as he leaned forward and kissed him. 

Ander immediately felt himself melting into the kiss. Omar kissed him with such delicacy, like he knew it was a risk and wasn’t sure how Ander would respond. Which was ridiculous really, since Ander has only ever expressed how much he wanted to be with him ever since the first time they had hung out. He took the opportunity to show Omar he still wanted him by grasping both sides of his face in his hands and pulling him closer as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. 

Omar must have gotten the hint as Ander could feel his lips curve into a triumphant smile against his mouth. And in this moment, he couldn’t be bothered to care that his whole act with Jaime has now been blown, because this-- this right here, is what he truly wants. Omar is who he wants. 

Omar slowly walked him backwards until his back hit the concrete structure, pinning him there with his body as he began to kiss Ander more fervently. Ander couldn’t contain the small moan that escaped his lips as the fire deep inside him sparked throughout his whole body as Omar kissed him. He gripped the lapel of Omar’s leather jacket and pulled him impossibly closer while he sucked on his bottom lip. Ander couldn’t remember a time when he’s ever wanted anything more than this. 

_“Mine.”_ Omar growled against his mouth, punctuating it with a quick bite to Ander’s bottom lip. He felt his stomach swoop even further into the warm pool of desire that laid low in his belly. The word setting his entire body on fire. He wanted him to keep saying it, over and over again. But most of all, he wanted him to mean it.

“Want you so bad right now,” Omar groaned against his lips before diving down to suck on a spot right under his left ear. 

Ander felt his stomach sink, and not in the good way. The words triggered what he feared most. What was supposed to be affirmation and reassurance, only confused him more. Sure Omar wanted him now, in this drunken cloud of lust, but what about tomorrow? Would he still want Ander then? Or the next day? Or a month from now? 

Would Omar be going home to his boyfriend after this and forget all about him? 

Ander suddenly felt queasy. His rampant thoughts forced him to lightly press against Omar’s chest for a moment so he could think, but Omar only switched his lips to the other side of Ander’s neck. 

He needed to know. Because he always wants Omar. Day, night, drunk, sober, all of it. But he wasn’t sure if this was just a one-time thing for Omar; a drunken mistake that he’d regret in the morning.

Omar protested with a soft groan as Ander pushed against his chest more firmly until he was at arm’s length, keeping him there. Omar looked absolutely disheveled. His lips swollen and wet, his eyes dark with desire, and the both of them panting loudly from the rush. Ander had to close his eyes for a moment because it was all too much. He couldn’t even look at him because he was weak. He’d give Omar everything and anything, despite how it might break his heart. 

“What? What is it?” 

When Ander didn’t respond, Omar covered his hand with his own where it was still planted firmly on his chest, and gave it a squeeze. Ander could feel his own resolve crumbling by the second as he tried to control his thoughts and his breathing.

He didn’t know how to ask. 

Frustrated, he let his head fall back against the concrete structure and let out a deep breath as he tried to put together his feelings into words, the alcohol certainly not helping him think straight. He felt Omar take half a step forward, slowly breaking through the wall Ander was desperately trying to build up around his heart. He felt his arm go slack against him as Omar took another half step closer. 

He kept his eyes closed though, still not quite trusting himself. He felt the tip of Omar’s nose lightly brush up and down his neck as he feathered soft kisses behind it, causing goosebumps to shiver down his spine and each of his limbs. He moved his head just slightly to the left, giving Omar even more of himself. 

Ander’s breath caught in his throat as he felt Omar’s palm drag down the front of his pants as he cupped his erection. He lifted his head off the concrete to look at him and was immediately met with Omar’s eager mouth once again.

Ander felt his hips buck up against Omar’s warm hand, his body betraying him. Or was it his mind that was betraying his body? He couldn’t tell anymore. 

All he knew was that none of this made any sense. How could Omar stand there and tell him he wants him when just yesterday he told him he was seeing someone else? Did he actually want him or was he just drunk and horny? He thinks he knows, deep in his gut, that at least some part of Omar actually wants him and wants to be with him, which is what makes all this so much more frustrating. Because if he did truly want him, why won’t he even give them a chance?

Ander pushed Omar away again, this time with two hands, causing Omar to stumble back a bit. 

“Why now, huh? What makes you want me now?” he demanded, his tone coming out more desperate than he intended.

Omar, clearly confused by Ander’s sudden attitude change, was speechless. Which was even better, Ander thinks, because it gave him the opportunity he needed to speak his mind, even in its jumbled up, drunken state. Ander could feel the pent up adrenaline from before now fueling his anger.

“This isn’t fair, Omar. You can’t just keep changing your mind like this.” He stepped towards Omar, stopping right in his face, their noses nearly touching. “It’s bullshit, alright?” 

He stayed right there, just inches away as he stared into his eyes and waited for Omar to answer him, to provide some kind of explanation. But he only just stared back at him with his mouth agape at the sudden twist of events. His silence only made Ander more upset. 

He scoffed as he took a step back, his voice softer now as he tried to keep himself together.

“You know what? Just...go home to your boyfriend, Omar.” 

He thought he heard his name being called out as he walked away, but he just ignored it and kept walking. Once inside the house, he desperately searched the room for Guzman and Polo so that they could leave. As he pushed his way through the crowd, he spotted Jaime, still in the same fucking spot Ander left him in. He wanted to punch himself. Why couldn’t he want someone like Jaime as much as he wanted Omar? Sure, Ander might not actually feel anything for the guy yet, but at least he wasn’t afraid to be seen with him. He wasn't afraid to show Ander that he wanted him. 

He thought about going over there and asking Jaime to leave with him. It would be so easy, and maybe he could even forget about Omar for a while. But the more he thought about it, the more he decided he’d rather be alone.

Without looking any further, Ander made his way out the front door and started walking down the street as he called a cab. Once he was far enough away from the house that he could just barely hear the music, he collapsed down onto the curb and buried his throbbing head in his arms as he waited for the cab to take him away from this nightmare.

Ander definitely sulks the rest of the night.

***


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omar fights for what he wants.

“Ander! Wait, please!” he shouted out towards Ander’s retreating body as he stormed away back into the packed mansion. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out once he could no longer see him. 

Omar dragged his hands down his face and then tried to discreetly adjust himself in his pants, which were uncomfortably tight still due to the heated events of just a few moments ago. Right before Ander had shoved him away and basically told him to fuck off.

He bit his lip and reluctantly turned back towards the sculpture where they were just hiding, the alcohol and the rush of blood that currently still lingered in his groan making him stumble a bit along the way. He braced himself on the concrete while his head swam, still trying to catch up and replay everything that had just happened. 

While he couldn’t really blame Ander for his confusion, he was surprised at how angry he was, the pain he could hear in his voice, and the hurt that reflected on his face. Omar had been stunned silent, the alcohol rendering him incapable to form words in response. 

And what could he have said? He couldn’t tell Ander why he was being so distant, but he was too weak to stay away. 

Of course, it took an embarrassing amount of alcohol for him to finally do what he’s been wanting to do for weeks. That and the sight of Ander with that pretentious jock. 

His eyes were glued to them as he had watched the taller boy lean in close to whisper in Ander’s ear, putting his hands on his waist and touching the small of his back. Ander looked like he was enjoying it too as he leaned into his touch and wrapped his hand around the guy's bicep while he flirted back. The sight had made him sick to his stomach.

Omar was seething as he had watched and drank his whiskey, never once looking away. He knew Paula was annoyed with him, having given up on Omar participating in any part of the conversation and leaving him to find better company. 

He had felt his whole body go rigid as he had watched the taller boy lean down to kiss Ander. Omar had felt the white hot surge of jealousy immediately course through him and a cold sweat prickle at his skin as his stomach fell through the earth. 

Like a car crash, he couldn’t look away at first. It was only once he saw what he thought looked like a smile flash across Ander’s face that he had quickly turned and walked away, feeling like the breath was just knocked out of him and not wanting Ander to see how it destroyed him. 

Just the memory of Ander kissing someone else made his stomach turn again. He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of anything else, anything to replace the image that he knew would continue to haunt him. His mind thankfully took pity on him by replacing the image with a much more pleasant memory, filling his senses with the smell, the touch, and the taste of Ander, and his stomach with butterflies. 

Because however upset Ander was at him at the moment, he knew one thing was certain: Ander still had feelings for him. 

He still wanted him even after the horrible way Omar had treated him. He knew that the feelings were still there the moment he felt Ander melt against him— pliable and eager, clutching onto Omar and kissing him like his life depended on it. Omar couldn’t help but smile at the memory, allowing himself a rare, yet fleeting moment of hope that maybe he could salvage this. 

Except, it was never about whether or not Ander still had feelings for him. 

It was about Omar not being able to act on his own feelings. It was about all the people in his life who refused to let them be together. His family, Ander’s family, friends, strangers. All of the people who were rooting against them, telling them they can’t be together. Threatening him for daring to be happy just once.

Omar clenched his jaw as resentment and anger coursed through him. Because he was angry. Angry at all the people who stood in his way and tried to keep him away from Ander. Angry at the world for being so unforgiving. Angry at himself for allowing people to tell him how to live his life. 

Omar didn’t want to be controlled by other people anymore. 

Determined to do something for himself, he set off towards the mansion to find Ander again. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

***

The pounding of the bass and the flash of lights made it even more difficult to think straight— let alone walk straight— as Omar searched the house for Ander. There seemed to be more people inside than he remembered, but then again, he hadn’t been paying much attention to his surroundings, only Ander. 

With another flash of the strobe lights, Omar saw a head of curls on the opposite side of the room. He quickly pushed his way through the crowd, his heart racing as he tried to focus his vision in front of him. It was as if everyone was moving in slow motion all of a sudden, their bodies multiplying as they moved along with the beat. Omar blinked hard to clear his vision, locating the curly head once more and taking the last few steps to get to him. 

“Ander!” he called out, pulling on the back of his shirt and ready to beg for forgiveness. 

The curly head turned around at Omar’s movement and Omar felt his stomach drop. Because it wasn’t Ander he was standing in front of, it was the pretentious jock that had his hands all over him earlier. 

The guy looked Omar up and down with confusion, and Omar stared back with disappointment. 

“Ah, no. Jaime.” he chuckled, pointing to himself as an introduction. “Ander will be right back though, he went to get more drinks for us. Are you a friend of his or..?”

Omar stared blankly at him and wondered if Ander had really come back inside after kissing him to be with this asshole. The guy looked at him expectantly and Omar felt his jaw clench again as he looked at his stupid handsome face and muscular arms, jealousy coursing through him once again. He couldn’t let this guy steal Ander away from him. Ander was _his._

Jaime leaned down to speak into Omar’s ear, repeating what he had said already, assuming Omar didn’t hear him, but Omar pushed him back. He didn’t want this guy anywhere near him, or Ander. Jaime held up his hands as he stumbled back a bit, bumping into someone behind him. 

“Hey man, what’s your problem?”

Omar took a step forward, standing up as tall as he could to try and be eye level with him. 

“You’re the problem, man. Stay away from Ander, you hear me?”

“Excuse me? Or what?” he scoffed, closing the distance between them and shoving Omar back, “Who the fuck are you anyways, huh?”

Omar struggled to regain his balance, catching a few people’s attention around them. He swallowed thickly as he watched the jock advance on him again, giving him another shove and knocking him into a group of girls. 

“Don’t touch me.” Omar snapped.

“You don’t tell me what to do, got it? And I’ll see Ander whenever the fuck I want.” He growled, giving Omar a smug smile and turning his back away from him. 

Omar felt a wave of guilt wash over him, along with fury. Why couldn’t he have stuck up for himself and for Ander like this guy was doing after only knowing Ander for a few minutes? 

Omar felt ashamed, but mostly angry, and mostly at himself. He didn’t want to be a coward anymore.

He straightened himself up and came back at the jock with much more force, sending the beer bottle that was in his hand shattering onto the floor. At this point, most of the people in the room were watching them now, some even eagerly chanted _fight, fight, fight!_

“I said stay away from him!” he shouted over the chanting. 

His heart pounded rapidly against his chest, adrenaline and alcohol egging him on along with the crowd. The taller boy turned around slowly, his brows furrowed with anger. 

The strobe lights made it difficult to see, but he knew his body wouldn’t have been able to react fast enough anyways, even without the flashing lights. Omar felt impossibly dizzy, like the whole world was spinning in circles around him. The unmistakable metallic taste of blood filled his mouth but he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

Next thing he saw was Guzman grabbing Jaime by his shirt collar and pushing him out the back door while two sets of hands pulled him to his feet. Nadia’s panicked face came into focus as she cupped his face in both hands before quickly unwrapping her hijab and bunching it up and shoving it against his mouth. 

With Nadia on one side and Paula on the other, the two girls walked Omar out the front door and sat him down on a boulder near the driveway. Omar immediately felt better without the loud music and flashing lights in his face. Except now all he could hear was Nadia yelling at him, although he’s not too sure what she was saying, he was still too disoriented. When he didn’t answer her, she began pacing and mumbling in Arabic. 

Guzman strided over and gently grabbed Nadia by her shoulders and attempted to calm her down. Omar pulled her hijab away from his face and saw the large blood stain covering the silky material. Paula stepped forward and closed the gap between them as she bent down to inspect Omar’s busted lip. 

“Shit, Omar. He got you good.” she told him. He winced in pain as she touched his cheek. She stepped back as Nadia stormed back over to get a look at him and scowled. 

“What is wrong with you, Omar? What were you doing? Trying to get yourself killed?” she asked, almost hysterical at this point.

Omar rolled his eyes at his sister. It was hardly the first time he’s ever been in a fight. Nadia crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look, waiting for an answer. Guzman appeared at her side, also apparently waiting for an explanation. Omar huffed out in annoyance.

“I don’t know, Nadia. I hardly remember what even happened. I probably just bumped into the guy and he got angry and shoved me and it just escalated from there. It’s not a big deal.” He lied.

Guzman cleared his throat loudly and narrowed his eyes at Omar.

“Is that so?” Guzman challenged, “Because Jaime said that you shoved him first. Yeah, right after you told him to stay away from Ander..?”

Omar closed his eyes for a moment and took a sharp inhale. He squeezed his dull fingernails into his palms and tightened his jaw in anger of being called out as he tried to think of a quick explanation that they might believe. But his head hurt too bad to come up with anything before Nadia began harassing him for more information.

“Ander? What is he talking about? What does Ander have to do with anything?” She demanded.

Nadia’s eyes were wide with confusion, but Guzman didn’t seem so confused. In fact, he looked understanding, empathetic even. Omar scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. Ander must have told Guzman about them. He wanted to be angry with him, but at this point he was too exhausted, he didn’t have the energy for any more emotions right now. 

But Nadia was still waiting for an answer from him, and Paula looked even more confused as she stood in silence a few feet away. Omar took a deep breath, but before he could speak, he felt blood begin to trickle it’s way down his chin as his busted lip reopened. He immediately covered his mouth with his hand to try and contain the bleeding and Nadia hurried off back into the house. Omar was surprised when Guzman stepped forward and crouched down on his knees, grabbing Nadia’s hijab from his lap and pressing it firmly to his mouth for him. 

Omar had never been too fond of Guzman, granted he didn’t know him too well, but he acted pretentious and arrogant at school and that was enough for Omar to form an opinion. He never really understood what Nadia saw in him, or Ander even, until now. Guzman was surprisingly gentle and caring, even though he had never even really spoken to Omar before. It almost felt like a privilege to be cared for by Guzman, to see this side of him that not many people see, Omar thinks.

“Listen, Omar. I know we don’t know each other very well, but your sister is very important to me, and I’m pretty sure Ander is important to you too, so that kind of makes us friends I suppose, right?” Omar nodded in agreement. 

“Just talk to him, man. Like, really talk to him. And be honest, okay, because he cares for you very, very, much. So there’s no reason to go try and fight every guy who looks at him,” Guzman gave him a stern look that made Omar feel small, like a child in trouble. “And if you do decide you need to fight them, well, if they’re twice your size like this guy was, just make sure to grab some back up beforehand, okay?” He chuckled, clapping Omar on the shoulder.

Omar huffed out a laugh as well, wincing as the movement pulled on his lip, and nodded his head. 

“Thanks, Guzman. I will.” He mumbled best as he could.

Guzman stood and stepped back just as Nadia arrived with a roll of paper towels and a cup of ice. She removed her hijab from his face, and replaced it with a makeshift ice pack. She had a hard look on her face, brows furrowed with concern, and her lips formed a hard line as she concentrated on cleaning Omar up. 

“I’ll buy you a new hijab. Any one you want, I promise.” He told her as he wiped his bloody hand off with a paper towel.

“That’s not important right now. But yes, yes you will.” 

Omar couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped, and he could see just a hint of a smirk flash across her face before it was replaced with something more serious as she replaced the current ice pack with a new one and held it to his lip.

“Omar...what are we going to do with you? Mama and baba can’t see you like this. Not only do you look terrible, but you reek of alcohol. How am I supposed to get you home?”

“He can stay with me.” Paula took a step forward, and Omar almost forgot she was even there.

“Omar and I had already talked about him staying with me if he got too drunk, so it’s not a problem. Just tell your parents he stayed at a friend's house. I’m assuming they don’t exactly know you two are at a party right now anyways, so it shouldn’t be too hard to say he just crashed at whatever friend’s house, right?”

Nadia turned back to Omar and they both nodded in agreement. 

“Yes, okay. That would work. Thank you, Paula.” 

“No problem. I already called for a cab. You two go back and enjoy the party, he’s in good hands.” She assured them.

Nadia pulled off the paper towel to check if Omar’s lip had stopped bleeding. She gave a satisfied nod and stood up straight, reaching a hand out to help Omar up and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” 

Omar nodded and whispered a thank you into her ear. He made eye contact with Guzman over her head and gave him a nod in thanks as well before Paula grabbed his hand and pulled him along to where the cab would be picking them up.

“Let’s go, _Fight Club_. Cab will be here any minute.” 

***

The cab ride to Paula’s house was silent. The throbbing of his head was now replaced with the throbbing of his jaw. Funny how getting punched in the face can sober you up, he thought. 

Omar followed his friend as she silently led him inside the house and straight to the kitchen. She poured two large glasses of water for each of them and then searched the freezer for a sufficient ice pack to put on Omar’s busted lip. He could feel her glare on him as he gulped down his water cup. Once he finished, she held out a frozen bag of broccoli for his face with a shrug.

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. The silent was starting to make Omar squirm. She stood up straight from where she was leaning against the countertop and motioned for him to follow her back to her bedroom. 

Omar sat down on the edge of Paula’s bed and waited. He knew her. He knew the silence was just foreboding the inevitable confrontation. He knew she would speak when she was ready.

“So,” she finally started. “Who’s this Ander kid and why are you starting fights over him?” 

Omar let out a deep sigh, trying to think of where to even begin, his eyes focused on the rug and he felt the heavy burden of secrecy weighing down on him even more than before. 

“Is he like, your boyfriend or something…?” She prompted.

Omar’s head snapped up at that in surprise and she just rolled her eyes. 

“I overhead what Guzman said to you.” 

Omar nodded in response and placed the bag of frozen broccoli on her nightstand. 

“No, he’s not.”

“But you want him to be. Because you like boys, right?” 

Omar sighed, running a hand through his hair and nodded his head yes. How many people was it that knew now? He was starting to lose count. She grinned at him and sat down next to him on the bed, smacking his arm playfully. He couldn’t help but give her a half smile back. 

After a beat, she continued questioning him.

“Okay, so then, does he like you back? And who was that guy that you were fighting with? Was _that_ his boyfriend? Wait a minute...that’s the guy you were watching all night, wasn’t it? The one that basically turned you into a brick wall? Pfft, and to think I thought you were scoping him out for me...” She added bitterly, with just a hint of humor.

Omar ducked his head sheepishly, feeling guilty for how he had completely ignored his friend while he obsessed over Ander and that guy. 

“Was Ander there tonight? Did I see him? Was he with that guy you were fighting?”

“Easy with all the questions, Paula! Take a breath, will ya?”

They both laughed and Paula made a show of attempting to calm herself down. 

“I’m sorry but this is all so new and exciting! You’ve been living this like, secret life and all and you owe me some answers, asshole!” 

She was right, he supposed. He watched as Paula buzzed with anticipation, her long black curly hair bouncing up and down along with her. He gave her a condensed version of everything that had happened between him and Ander— how they had met, and about their first “date” at Ander’s house. She squealed with excitement when he told her about their first kiss, the butterflies swooping back into his stomach at the memory.

“Well, I wish I could say the rest of the story is equally as exciting as the first part...” 

He sighed, feeling the overwhelming sense of dread and devastation wash over him. Paula could sense the shift in his mood, her brows furrowing with concern as she gave his hand a quick squeeze and waited for him to continue. 

“You’ve met my father, so you know how he is, how controlling and expectant he is over both mine and Nadia’s lives. Well, if he were to ever find out about me, I’d be out on the streets—”

“No, you’d be here. With me.” she cut in immediately, her face dead serious.

Omar squeezed her hand back tightly and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. They both shared a smile and Omar continued. He told her how he tried to break things off before either of them got hurt, before things went too far. And how Ander had come to the store to fight for him. Omar could still picture Ander standing in front of him, with his warm eyes full of hope and those soft, full lips Omar had longed to taste again. How comforting his touch was, even amidst Omar’s fears. 

“But that’s not all. Ander’s dad, he uh, came to the store shortly after Ander had left and he um...he threatened me. Told me to stay away from his son or else he’d tell my father about us. About me being….you know…”

“That son of a bitch!” Paula exclaimed. 

Omar had to cover her mouth with his hand so they wouldn’t wake her parents. She pulled his hand down and whispered profanity, mostly to herself, before turning towards Omar again.

“Wait, does Ander know this happened?” 

Omar shook his head.

“Shit. Poor guy.” she mumbled. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you, Omar. You deserve to be happy and to live your life however the fuck you want. Not by the rules of these pathetic old men.”

Omar nodded sadly in agreement, picking at his cuticles. Paula gently reached over and tilted Omar’s chin towards her, inspecting his busted lip with concern.

“So where does this guy come in?” she motioned at his lip.

“Well, after I treated Ander like shit and pushed him away, he rightfully decided to move on: enter hot gay jock. And I guess I let my jealousy get the best of me,” he shrugged. “Although now that I think of it, I don’t think Ander actually likes this guy. I think he was probably just using him to get to me, to prove to us both that I still had feelings for him...”

“Ya think?” Paula teased, “That’s like the oldest trick in the book!” 

Omar rolled his eyes at her, blaming the alcohol for his stupidity. Although he wasn’t too upset, he certainly fell for Ander’s trap and he was glad he did. 

They were both silent, and Omar thought back to the last few moments before Ander had stormed away, right before it all went to shit. 

“You didn’t see him though, Paula. He was so angry with me...I’m such an asshole.” 

He lowered his head in shame, remembering the hurt and anger he saw on Ander’s face and wondered if they could move past this. He was right, what Omar was doing to him wasn’t fair. 

“It wasn’t your choice to do those things, Omar. You were just trying to look out for yourself, and for him too. But, can I be blunt with you though..?” 

Omar gave her a look as if to say, _when are you not?_

“Fuck your dad and fuck Ander’s too. If you want to be with him, which I know you do, then figure it out. I can see how miserable you’ve been lately, and you deserve to be with the person you want to be with. Whether that’s a boy or a girl.”

She gave him a stern look, and Omar ducked his head in shame once again. He felt like such a coward. He thought back to the way Jaime had defended himself and Ander without hesitation. Of course, it wasn’t exactly the same situation, but it was enough to make Omar believe that maybe he truly doesn’t deserve Ander. Because Ander deserves someone who will fight for him and stand up for him. And as much as Omar wants to be that person for him, he wasn’t sure if he could. And even if he were, would Ander still want him at this point? 

“Yeah. I know.” He sighed, “Hey, thanks for listening and for putting up with me tonight...and with all my mood swings from the past few weeks. You’re a really great friend.” He told her.

Paula pulled him in and squeezed him into a tight hug, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up and changing into something more comfortable to sleep in. Omar took out his phone and saw a message from Nadia.

_I told mama and baba that you’re staying with Samu tonight. We’ll talk more tomorrow._

Omar sighed with relief as he laid back on the bed, thankful for his sister’s loyalty. Although talking with Paula had been a huge weight off his shoulders, he was not particularly looking forward to having to explain himself to Nadia as well. He wasn’t sure how she’d react.

But what he really wanted was to text Ander, to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but he was afraid of what he would say, or worse, what he wouldn’t say. What if Ander was done with him for good? The thought that made his heart clutch painfully in his chest throughout the night, stealing away any peace that might bring about sleep.

***

The next morning, Omar hugged his friend a little tighter and thanked her before getting into a cab and heading home.

He found Nadia sitting on her bed reading a book. She immediately set the book down and jumped up to meet Omar halfway. Her hand gently caressed his jaw while inspecting how much his lip had swelled overnight. She clicked her tongue with disapproval.

“You didn’t ice it enough.” She scolded. 

“It’s fine, Nadia. I’m fine.” He told her as he gently pulled her hand away and sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Yeah, sure. Well, you’re the one who will have to explain to our parents what happened…” 

Nadia gave him a pointed look, and Omar just rolled his eyes playfully. She was right, but he didn’t need to be babied, he would just tell them he and Samuel were messing around and he was in the wrong place, wrong time. She sat down next to him on the bed, twisting her body so she faced him fully, and rested her elbows on her knees and waited.

Omar was silent. He closed his eyes momentarily while his head throbbed with his hangover, along with the lack of sleep. He really didn’t want to relive the pain that came along with the story, but he knew Nadia wanted an explanation, and Omar was tired of lying and keeping everything locked inside. It was better to speak now before he eventually exploded. Before he could start, Nadia spoke up, anxious to know more.

“Are you...are you really…” Nadia cleared her throat and took a deep breath. Omar knew what she was trying to ask, but he wanted her to say it. 

“Omar, do you like...boys?” She whispered. 

He slowly nodded his head. Nadia mimicked his movement as well as she took it in.

“And Ander...he likes boys, too, right?”

Omar hesitated for a moment, not really feeling like he had the right to answer that question for him, but Nadia isn’t stupid. She knows this is about him and Ander. He nodded his head again.

“So then—” she began, but Omar interrupted.

“So then can you just let me talk?” 

If they were going to have this conversation, Omar wanted to be in control of it. He also wanted it to be over as soon as possible, and Nadia asking one question at a time would be torturous. He figured the only way to get through this was to just get it out. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could go back to bed and hide from all his problems.

“Look, Ander and I were kind of seeing each other, but things got complicated. Obviously mama and baba can’t find out about it, so there’s that. But also Ander’s father is an issue as well…”

“But you both want to be together?” 

“Yeah, we do. Or at least I think that’s what he still wants. I can’t be too sure though, we didn’t exactly leave on good terms last night…”

“Okay, and if he does, you would just date in secret then?” 

Omar trilled his lips and shrugged, “I don’t know, Nadia. Maybe I will tell our parents. Shouldn’t they accept me for me?” He asked, feeling his frustration building up. “And if they don’t, then fine. I will be myself somewhere else. That’s what I planned to do after graduation anyways. Leave this place and go somewhere where I can live my life the way I want to.”

Nadia looked at him with wide eyes full of fear and grabbed his hand.

“What? Omar, you can’t...” Her eyes began to shine with unshed tears. “You can’t just leave. You can’t leave me here all alone…”

Omar let out a sigh of frustration. This whole situation was already complicated enough, he didn’t need Nadia making him feel guilty for wanting a better life for himself on top of it all.

“It’s not like I’d move out of the country and never speak to you again. Paula already offered her place if needed, and I’m sure Samu would as well. I’d still be here, just not... _here._ ”

She nodded her head solemnly and wiped away a stray tear. Neither spoke for a while, but Nadia kept a tight hold on Omar’s hand while she idly twisted the bracelet on his wrist. She looked deep in thought, but Omar wasn’t sure there was more to say. He was about to stand up and walk away when he heard Nadia speak up, her voice barely a whisper.

“Is he...is he worth it? Ander?” She looked at him curiously. 

Omar stared back blankly before his eyes dropped down to his hands. For a moment he swore he could feel Ander’s fingers interlaced with his own, their rough calluses from years of holding a tennis racquet lightly scratching his skin as they easily slotted into their rightful place, right in between Omar’s own fingers. He felt a smile tug lightly at his lips and immediately he responded: “Yes.”

Omar looked up then to see a small smile play on her lips as she nodded her head in understanding. He gave her hand another squeeze and stood up to go change out of last night’s clothes. 

“You’re worth it too, you know.” 

Omar snorted and rolled his eyes playfully as he turned back to face his sister.

“What are you talking about?”

Nadia stood up and crossed the room, stopping just in front of Omar. She looked up into his eyes as she spoke.

“I’m serious, Omar. You’re worth standing up to our parents for, too. Even if for whatever reason things don’t work out with Ander, you should still tell them, for yourself. So you can be you. Your life is worth living the way you want. And I’ll be here to support whatever decision you make.” She told him sincerely.

Omar smiled and pulled her into a big hug.

“Thank you, Nadia.” 

He kissed the top of her head and the two siblings held each other for longer than Omar can ever remember hugging her. When they pulled apart, Nadia wiped away the tears that had streamed down her face and gave him a watery smile before going back to her side of the room.

***

Omar was fortunate enough to not have to help out much in the store today, as Sunday’s were typically slow, and Nadia had volunteered to take over some of Omar’s duties so he could rest.

But rest did not come easy. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Ander, and how he deserved to know the truth. Omar said he didn’t want to be a coward anymore, so he needed to do this, even though it scared him to death.

He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and held his breath as he sent a text that could potentially make or break the rest of his life.

***


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander learns the truth (part one).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to split this chapter into two. There's just way too much happening that I wanted to all be in Ander's POV and apparently I am incapable of writing short scenes. That being said, here is the first part. The second part is almost done as well but not quite ready yet.
> 
> Thanks for your patience and hope you enjoy :)

Ander stared at the words on his phone screen as if he could decode their meaning just by pure concentration. 

_“Can we talk? I can explain everything, if you’ll let me. Please.”_

While Ander fully expected an explanation if they were to ever move forward, something about the words sent a chill down his spine. His knee bounced anxiously from where he sat on his bed while his mind wandered about what possible explanation Omar could have. Once the words on his phone began to blur, he sighed with defeat, tossed his phone aside, and laid back on his bed to watch the clouds pass through the skylight. His hangover was still pulsing through his head, a constant reminder of last night's events and all the questions he still had. 

As much as he wanted to have all the answers, he was still angry. Ander had spent countless days sulking, wondering what he had done wrong, and feeling like he wasn’t good enough for Omar. While he was eager for Omar’s explanation, he was too exhausted from all the back and forth to respond. He needed to sort himself out first, and Omar would have to be the one waiting this time. Although that didn’t stop his mind from wandering.

He remembered what Omar had told him about his father— how he would never be accepted by his family— but what he couldn’t understand was if Omar was willing to hide his relationship for that other guy, why couldn’t he do it for Ander? 

He must not be important enough. His feelings for Ander must not be strong enough. 

But then why did Omar kiss him like that? Why did he call him _his?_

Ander closed his eyes, feeling the ghost of Omar’s lips on his, thinking about his hair through Omar’s fingers. The desire in his eyes. The possessive way Omar claimed him.

His brain then reminded him that Omar was also drunk. He probably didn’t know what he was saying. He probably didn’t even remember saying it, it was just a heat of the moment slip up. Ander grabbed his pillow and hugged it to his face in frustration. A loud knock on his door, followed by the door abruptly opening forced him out of his pillow shield.

His father stood in the middle of the doorway with a stern look. “You’re not dressed.”

“Dressed for what?” Ander sighed.

His father rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Practice.”

Ander groaned and pulled the pillow back over his head.

“Dad, not today, please. I’m exhausted.” He mumbled.

He could hear his father sigh, not daring to look at him.

“Ander…” He warned, “We made a deal, remember? You are free to go out with your friends and stay out all night, but you still have to go to practice.”

Ander scoffed and sat up.

“Yeah, and what about a fews weeks ago when you made me stay home when I had plans with Omar?” He challenged.

His father stared back at him intently before taking a few steps towards him, considering his words before speaking. 

“That was different. That was a tournament, not practice. And I stand behind that decision, although it seems you lacked focus regardless.” He added bitterly.

Ander rolled his eyes, remembering how angry his father was with his performance that weekend but hardly caring. There were more important things he had been focused on that weekend. Ander watched as his fathers eyes roamed across his bedroom, like he was looking for something to criticize. Not wanting this conversation to continue, Ander huffed and stood up as quickly as his head would allow him, reluctantly locating his tennis bag and looking through its contents to see what else he needed. 

“Have you been hanging out with him again? That...friend of yours?” 

Ander looked up at his father curiously. He was trying to look nonchalant as he picked up one of Ander’s tennis jackets, his fingers brushed over the material a few times before he handed it out towards him. Ander reached out to grab the jacket but his father pulled it just out of reach before he could take it, waiting for a response. Ander looked back at him with annoyance.

“Who? Omar? Not really, I mean we go to school together but we don’t have any of the same classes…” He shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

His father nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response but ignoring his question. He held the jacket back out to him and Ander took it from him skeptically, unsure why his father would even care who he was hanging out with.

“Get dressed, we leave in twenty minutes.” He told him, “Oh, and maybe take a shower? You reek of liquor.”

His father gave him a disapproving once over before walking out of his room.

***

Tennis practice had actually felt pretty therapeutic. He had exhausted his body and his mind, clearing it of all its stress, if only for a little while. Regardless, Ander actually welcomed the school day and all the distractions it brought with it.

He had ignored Omar’s text yesterday— partly out of pettiness, partly because of the knots it left in his stomach. He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what Omar had to say, mainly because he feared Omar would admit he had made a mistake by kissing him at the party, and he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing that. He tried to go about his day as usual, but he found that the knots in his stomach only grew with each passing hour. His feet felt heavy, his entire body sluggish. 

On his way to his final class of the day, he had decided to take a route he doesn’t normally take, hoping that the change of scenery could snap him out of the cloud of gloom he felt trapped in. 

He walked through the halls on autopilot, staring blankly at the students passing by. It’s not a big school, but most of the faces over here are unfamiliar. Each of them with their own story; their own problems and fears and hopes and relationships. He knew nothing of their lives and they knew nothing of his. And yet life goes on. The thought was oddly comforting to him.

As he turned the corner of another hallway, he immediately recognized the back of Guzman’s head. He had his shoulder leaning against the lockers and was facing towards an open one a few feet in front of him. He tried to think of who Guzman knows that has a locker in this hallway, but most of their friends locker’s are in the east wing. 

Curiosity getting the best of him, Ander navigated through the faceless students, making his way to Guzman. He approached unnoticed. Guzman was looking down at the floor with his hands in his pockets while the person he’s waiting on had their face buried in their own locker. 

Ander cleared his throat, making his presence known. Guzman’s head snapped up and he immediately stiffened as soon as he saw Ander, his relaxed demeanor vanished. His eyes darted between Ander and the person he was waiting on. Ander got the strange feeling that he’s intruding on something personal by the embarrassed look on Guzman’s face. Amused, he looked to his left just as the mystery person peeked out from their locker. The absolute last person Ander expected to see behind the locker door was Omar. And yet here he was, looking just as shocked as Ander himself. As his eyes shifted between his best friend and Omar, a million thoughts went through his head.

He turns his glare to Guzman mostly, his eyes wide with confusion and his jaw set hard with a bit of anger. Guzman tended to have a superiority complex that made him believe he could fix everyone else’s problems better than they can. It was one of his qualities that Ander was not very fond of. He just hoped that Guzman hadn’t done too much damage already, although he’s not quite sure how much more damage _could_ be done at this point. 

Before Ander could question him, Guzman cut him off.

“I uh, better get to class...I’ll see you later.” 

It’s unsure if he’s referring to Ander or Omar, but Ander watched as they exchanged a look and Guzman patted Omar’s shoulder reassuringly before taking off, actively avoiding Ander’s eyes and leaving him dumbfounded.

He watched for a moment as Guzman made his way down the hallway before turning back to Omar, his face still half buried behind his locker door. Omar looked slightly guilty, he thought, as he tugged lightly on his bottom lip and avoided eye contact with Ander. 

Ander had so many questions running through his mind, but he couldn’t get his mouth to choose one to ask. He watched Omar watch him from the corner of his eye for a moment, his fingers nervously fidgeting on the locker door. But the longer Omar stayed silent, the more Ander convinced himself that they were conspiring something behind his back. The thought made him uneasy, and the silence was like a knife in the back. With a scoff, he turned to leave, but Omar caught his arm.

“Ander, wait.”

He heard the locker slam shut and slowly turned back towards him. His heart nearly stopped at the sight of Omar’s face now that he was fully looking at him. 

“Jesus Omar, what the hell happened to your face?” He breathed out.

He took a step toward and his hand immediately came up to wrap around the back of his neck so he could get a better look at the bruising, but Omar pulled back uncomfortably, his eyes shifting around the hallway for anyone watching the intimate movement. Ander couldn’t help the frustration that built up at Omar’s reaction. It felt like being rejected all over again. He wished Omar didn’t care so much about what other people thought of him, but while he didn’t necessarily share Omar’s fears, he wanted to respect them anyways. He quickly looked around and saw an empty classroom across the hall and motioned for Omar to follow him.

Ander’s heart raced as he strode into the classroom, his hands shook as images of Omar bloody and hurt filled his imagination. He hated whoever did this to him. 

As soon as he heard the door click closed, he turned on his heel and doubled back towards Omar. This time when Ander wrapped his hand behind his neck, Omar let him, unable to meet his eyes. Ander gently turned Omar’s face so that he could fully examine the damage. His bottom lip was split open just shy of the corner of his mouth, swollen and cracked, but healing. A deep purple bruise crawled up along his jawline as well. The bruising was obvious, even with Omar’s darker complexion.

With his other hand, he lightly traced the bruising along his jaw with his thumb and could feel the swelling underneath. Omar winced just slightly as his thumb brushed a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Who did this to you?” He demanded. “Was it your father?”

Omar finally looked him in the eye at that. He reached up and grabbed ahold of Ander’s forearms and gently pulled them down to release himself. Ander reluctantly obliged, feeling disappointed when Omar let go of him. 

“No. He didn’t hit me.”

Ander regarded him skeptically, trying to determine if he was lying to him. Maybe he thought Ander would tell his mother, so he was trying to protect his father from being reported. But the longer he stared into Omar’s eyes, the more he believed he was telling the truth.

“Okay, then who was it? I want to know.”

Omar rolled his eyes, folding his arms tightly across his chest. 

“I’m fine, Ander. It’s not a big deal, alright? I was being a jackass and I got what I deserved.” Omar mumbled.

Ander shook his head, he hardly believed that Omar would provoke someone into hitting him. It didn’t matter that he was mad at Omar, he didn’t want to see him hurt. He still cared about him, that wasn’t going to just go away. But he recognized the stubbornness in Omar as his own, and he knew he would probably behave the exact same way if the roles were reversed, so he decided to let it go for now.

“Fine. Why were you talking to Guzman?” He asked, feeling nervous and hoping it didn’t show through his voice. He really hoped Guzman didn’t say anything stupid.

Omar scoffed, “Don’t act so surprised. You’re the one who told him about us, right?” 

Ander immediately felt his face flush with embarrassment. He opened his mouth to protest, but Omar was right. He did tell Guzman— and Polo for that matter— when he had sworn to keep Omar’s secret. No wonder Omar didn’t trust him. No wonder he chose someone else. He didn’t deserve to have Omar. All he’s done is cause him problems and out him to his best friends. 

“Omar…” He whispered, feeling ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry. I was upset and drunk and needed to vent. It just came out. I’m sorry...”

It was almost funny how quickly the tables had turned. Just yesterday it was Omar who was begging for forgiveness. Omar stared at him for a long moment before taking a deep breath and nodding, his face going soft.

“Yeah, well, I suppose I haven’t made things easy for you either. I’m sorry, too. For the other night, and for a lot of things...” Omar ducked his head before continuing nervously, “You never responded to my text yesterday, but I’d really like to explain if you’ll let me...I, uh, haven’t been fully honest with you…”

Ander felt his heart sink at that. What could Omar possibly be lying to him about? 

Before either could say anything else, the warning bell rang, alerting them they were about to be late for class. Ander cursed the fact that they still had one more class before the day was over. He knew the anxiety would plague him the rest of the day. He needed to know what Omar wasn’t telling him, but they were out of time.

“Can you come over after school?” He knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t care anymore.

Omar looked hesitant for a moment, so Ander assured him his mother had a board meeting tonight and wouldn’t be home until later. 

“What about your father? Will he be home?”

Omar looked perhaps even more nervous asking about Ander’s dad.

“He goes to the country club on Monday’s after work. He shouldn’t be home until later this evening either.”

When Omar still looked skeptical, Ander became frustrated again. Here he was giving Omar the chance to explain himself after he practically begged for it, and yet he wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to do so. He was beginning to feel impatient, he raised his eyebrows in a challenge while he waited for Omar to answer. 

“Okay, okay, sure. After school. Yes. See you then.” Omar agreed.

Ander nodded and walked past him out of the room. He definitely wasn’t going to make it to class in time, but he needed to get out of there so he could breathe again.

***

To say that Ander struggled to maintain focus for the rest of the day would be an understatement. Within the first fifteen minutes of class, he nearly texted Omar four different times to meet him again. The hell with class. But he knew Omar wouldn’t agree. He was on scholarship and needed to maintain his grades, he couldn’t skip class. So instead, Ander locked his phone away in his bag and waited impatiently, willing the clock to move faster. 

By the time the final bell rang, Ander nearly sprinted out of the building to jump on his bike and head home. As he worked to quickly undo the lock on his bike, he heard Guzman’s voice calling out his name. He was annoyed at the delay for getting home, but still intrigued nonetheless as he allowed for Guzman to catch up to him. Ander still wanted to know what him and Omar had been talking about. 

“Hey man,” Guzman started awkwardly. Ander nodded, but said nothing. His friend cleared his throat before speaking again. “About earlier, I—” He sighed, frustration evident. “Look, Omar is a good guy. I know you’ve had some uh, issues I suppose, but...he really cares about you. I’m sure you know that already, but just in case you didn’t...”

Ander considered his words. _Did_ he know that already? 

Yes, he’s certain he did. Or at least he thought he did. But has Omar really shown him that himself? Ander wasn’t entirely sure anymore. And if Guzman felt the need to say something; if Guzman felt like Ander didn’t know Omar’s true feelings, then something was definitely wrong. His stomach had been in knots already, but all the questions and confusion made them coil even tighter as he biked his way home. 

Twenty minutes after Ander arrived home, he heard the doorbell ring. 

He thought back to the last time Omar had come over. Back when they had first met and Ander was so smitten and so nervous. He was still both of those things, but it was different now. 

Excited nerves turned into anxious nerves. Butterflies into knots. 

Because Omar has been lying to him about something all this time. Was he lying about his feelings for Ander? About his parents not accepting him? All the what ifs made Ander lightheaded as he made his way to the door. He hesitated, wondering what all was about to change once Omar told him the truth. And would it even be the whole truth? Would he be able to trust him again? 

Ander took a deep breath and schooled his expression into something neutral, hiding all the conflict taking place in his brain and his heart, something he’s gotten quite good at over the years. 

He allowed Omar to walk in, closing the door behind him and then led him up to his room. No one else was home, but it felt strange to have such an intimate conversation in the living room. However, the deja vu was almost too much to bear that Ander nearly changed his mind about them going up to his room. He felt the sudden need to preserve the memories he had of the last time Omar was here, but they were already halfway up the stairs, so he continued, one heavy foot after another. 

Neither spoke at first. Ander sat on the arm of the sofa and watched with his arms crossed tightly against his chest as Omar’s eyes roamed across his room, just as before, then meeting his own. 

“Thanks for uh, letting me come here. To explain.” Omar mumbled. 

Ander nodded, but kept quiet. His eyes were unable to look away from the painful marks on Omar’s face. He had almost forgotten about them. 

“Are you going to tell me who hit you?”

Omar shook his head, “I’m not here to talk about that.” He took a deep breath, “What I mean to say is, I’m really sorry…I never meant to toy with your feelings, or lead you on or anything.”

Ander’s eyes sunk to the floor, along with his heart. Omar was here to break things off for good. He hates that he’s still surprised by this, that he can still feel his heart break.

“I never meant for you to get hurt, or make you feel like you don’t matter. Because you do. You’re the only thing that matters, Ander.”

He looked up at that. “What are you saying?”

Omar looked both sad and frustrated. He took a hesitant step towards Ander, then another until he was standing only a few feet in front of him.

“What I’m saying is...I haven’t stopped thinking of you since the day we met,” He whispered. “And at that party, I don’t know what came over me. Just that, seeing you with that guy, I’ve never felt such jealousy in my life.” He looked away, defeated. “I tried to drown out my regret and jealousy with the alcohol. Using it to gather the courage to kiss you again, to try and tell you how I felt. But then you were so angry with me, and I didn’t understand why at the time, but I do now.” 

Ander felt a pang of guilt, remembering how he purposely tried to tease and make Omar jealous, and then freaked out when it actually worked. If he would’ve been able to hold himself together that night, maybe Omar would have been able to tell him all this before. 

“I’ve been selfish,” Omar continued, “I was so focused on trying to protect myself that I left you in the dark. You’re right. It wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry.”

Ander shook his head, “No, I’m the selfish one. I was only thinking about myself and what I wanted, and then I got upset when I thought you didn’t want the same thing.”

“I do want the same thing.” Omar told him, his voice coming out stronger than expected. 

Ander stood up and looked deep into Omar’s eyes. His stomach fluttered anxiously, full of hope.

“And what about your boyfriend? The older guy you’re seeing…” He asked nervously, because what does this all mean if Omar is still with him? Does it mean anything if he’s still with someone else?

“Yeah, um, well, about that...” 

Ander regarded him cautiously, all the protective walls around his heart bracing themselves for Omar’s truth. 

“Well, there is no boyfriend. There never was. I made it up to try and push you away. I’m sorry, but it was the only way I thought you would give up and move on and I just needed to do something or else…” He trailed off, looking unsure of what else to say.

Ander stood there dumbfounded for a moment. There wasn’t someone else. Omar lied about having a boyfriend, and he wanted to be with him. Ander felt a weight lift off from him, feeling like something was finally going his way. He almost laughed with relief, but then the rest of Omar’s words began to hit him.

“Push me away? Why? Because of your father?” Ander asked, his frustration bubbling up again. 

He hated that Omar’s family was such an obstacle for their relationship, for Omar’s own happiness. He grabbed Omar’s hand and held it between his own. “Listen, like I said before, I will protect you. Against your father, against anyone who will try to hurt you—”

Ander trailed off as Omar looked down at their hands. His face sullen and conflicted, like he didn’t believe him. A punch to the gut. Ander chewed his lip and tried to think how he could convince Omar he could trust him with this. 

“Omar, look at me, please.” He pleaded, squeezing Omar’s hand in his own. 

Omar took another deep breath and slowly met Ander’s eyes. Ander tried to speak again, but this time Omar stopped him.

“Listen, it’s not just my father that’s the problem. There’s something else you should know.” 

***


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander learns the truth (part two).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned y'all I was incapable of writing short scenes, and so because of that, this is part two of now three of Ander learning the truth. So that means the next chapter will also be in Ander's POV. Part three is currently like 95% done and will be posted in a few days once my brain recovers from writing/editing almost 10K words (Ander has a lot of thoughts and feelings okay?!).
> 
> But anyways, really excited to share this chapter and the next with y'all. Thanks as always for reading along and sharing your thoughts with me.

Ander grew more and more anxious as the silence stretched. Omar pulled his hand out of Ander’s to loosen his uniform tie around his neck, unbuttoning the top button, and then ran a nervous hand through his hair. Ander fidgeted with his own anticipation as he waited. 

“What is it, Omar?” He prompted, hoping Omar wasn’t going to back out of whatever it was he was about to say. He nearly looked ready to run, which worried him.

“Right. So um, remember the first time I came over? And then that weekend you came to my family’s store again?”

Ander nodded. He remembered leaving the store feeling somewhat confident that they were on the same page, that their feelings for each other were mutual, even though Omar said they could only be friends. He also remembered Omar mentioned his family’s religious beliefs that day as well. But if they weren’t the only problem, he’s not sure what else could have happened that day that would cause Omar so much stress.

He watched as Omar nervously picked at his cuticles while he tried to think of what to say next. Seeing Omar so nervous was not helping Ander’s own nerves. After another long moment of waiting, Ander reached out and grabbed both of Omar’s hands to stop his nervous picking and held them in his own to try and reassure him. Omar looked down at their hands for a moment, giving Ander a soft smile as he finally met his eyes again.

“You can tell me anything, you know that right?” Ander encouraged, giving his hands a firm squeeze.

Omar nodded, but his smile faded. He let out another breath and continued.

“Well, after you had come by, your father...he um, paid me a visit at the store as well.” 

Ander watched him curiously, not sure what to make of his words. “Wait, my father came to your store?”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t exactly because he needed to buy zucchini or melons...” Omar snorted, halfheartedly trying to lighten the mood, but nothing about his face was humorous. When Ander didn’t respond, he continued. “He um...he told me to stay away from you...”

Omar looked up at him nervously through his thick lashes, his body language guarded, like he was afraid of Ander’s response.

“What do you mean? I— I don’t understand...”

Omar’s words rang through his head at least ten times as he tried to comprehend what it meant, his mind spun faster with each word.

_His father told Omar to stay away from him._

Ander felt his whole body flush with heat— out of both anger and embarrassment. He searched Omar’s face for any hint of humor that would indicate he was pulling some kind of prank on him, but instead he only saw shame and sympathy. He felt like throwing up.

Ander dropped his hands and took a step back, weakly shaking his head in denial and disbelief. His jaw set hard. He couldn’t believe this had happened.

“I’m so sorry, Ander...I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid of what he would do if he knew I told you. I was afraid he would go to my father with the photos and I—” Omar stammered, distress clear in his voice as he searched for the right words to say. 

That seemed to pull Ander out of the daze he was in. “Photos? What photos? What are you talking about?” 

His blood was pulsing loudly through his eardrums, making him second guess what Omar had just said. 

“He was watching us when we were talking outside of the store. When you grabbed my hand...I can’t believe I was so reckless…” Omar shook his head, he was angry. “And so now he has pictures of us holding hands and said he’d show them to my father...” 

Omar’s confession hurt more than he cared to admit as guilt washed over him. Because Ander had been impatient that day, because he just couldn’t wait any longer to see him. He was the one who insisted on talking right then and there. He was the one who grabbed his hand. He was the one who needed Omar’s validation, his touch. He’s the one responsible for Omar even being in this situation, and he didn’t even know about it. 

“He blackmailed you to stay away from me.” He meant it as a question, but as the words came out of his mouth, he already knew they were true.

Omar nodded solemnly and chewed on the side of his lip that wasn’t split, his eyes began to shine with emotion. “My family would throw me out on the streets if they saw those photos, I just couldn’t risk it. I’m sorry, I had no other choice, please forgive me—” 

His voice wavered as he spoke. Ander shook his head and held up his hand for Omar to stop speaking. He couldn’t take hearing Omar beg for forgiveness when he had done nothing wrong. 

“This isn’t your fault, Omar.” He told him as he watched a tear fall from Omar’s eye and race down his cheek. 

He stepped towards him again and gently wiped it from his cheek with his thumb, letting his hand linger against the smooth skin there before resting it on the nape of his neck. He forced himself to put aside his anger for a moment, taking in all the pain and struggle he could see on Omar’s face, knowing that this hadn’t been easy on him. 

It was starting to all make sense now, why Omar kept going back and forth with his feelings for him. Because half of it was Omar, and the other half of it was his own father, playing him like a puppet. Playing the both of them. He thought back to the comment his father had made just yesterday, asking him if he had been hanging out with Omar, trying to see if Omar took his threat seriously. The thought made Ander sick to his stomach. His mind couldn’t make sense of why his father would do such a thing to keep Omar from him.

“I don’t understand, why does he want you to stay away from me? What does he have to gain from that?” He paused, then another thought occurred to him. “I don’t think he would have a problem with me liking guys. I mean, my uncle on my mother’s side is gay and I’ve never heard him say anything offensive about him...”

Ander thinks he would know if his father had an issue with gay people, but he realized he didn’t give a shit if he did anyways. That wasn’t an excuse.

“He said that I was a distraction.” Omar cut in.

“From what? School?” 

Omar didn’t respond, but the pity was written all over his face. Suddenly it hit him: this wasn’t about whether or not his father accepted Ander for who he is, or who he likes, or that he even cared about his school grades. He only cared about one thing: that Ander performed well. That he was a champion. 

He’s not sure why he’s even surprised by this realization, really. 

But once it hit, the overwhelming emotions of the whole situation began to consume him quickly. His ears rang, and his throat burnt. His stomach knotted uncomfortably. The thumping inside his chest was too loud, and for a moment, it became harder to breathe. Like someone was standing on his chest. Omar reached out a hand to touch him, but Ander pulled away abruptly before he could reach him, making Omar flinch.

“I just...need a moment.” His voice came out horse and thick. 

Seeing the panicked look on Omar’s face, he wanted to reach out and give his arm a squeeze to let him know that he wasn’t upset with him, but he wasn’t sure he could manage to do even that right now. Without another word, he walked past Omar to the other side of the room. He didn’t want to see the pity on Omar’s face anymore, nor did he want Omar to see the pain he was no longer able to hide. 

He stopped in front of the window near his bed. His jaw clenched tightly as his hands shook next to him. He hated the way they shook, because he knew, deep down, that it wasn’t just out of anger. 

Growing up, Ander and his father had never really been very close, which was disheartening considering he was his only son. The only thing they ever really bonded over was tennis, and even with that, the bond was fragile. The glue became thinner and thinner as he got older. But still, he didn’t want to believe that his father thought tennis was important enough to intentionally sabotage his relationship, or what could have been a relationship. 

While the realization that nothing was more important to his father than his tennis career isn’t anything new to be surprised about, Ander’s heart still ached. There was still a part of him that has been fighting for his father’s approval since he was a kid. It was the only reason he still even played tennis, to make him happy. Sure they butted heads often, and he would sometimes act out against his father. With his friends, he had always claimed he doesn't care what his father thinks, and in some ways he truly didn't, but deep down he had always fought and worked hard for his approval.

It had started when he was a kid, but Ander had soon grown resentful of his father over the years because he knew he could never live up to his expectations, no matter how hard he tried. He had placed Ander on a pedestal from an early age, constantly praising him, bragging to anyone who would listen about how Ander was some kind of tennis prodigy. But once the competition got tougher and Ander was no longer the shining star— but rather just one of many stars; the praise lessened, while the criticism increased. His father began demanding more and more from him. Nothing he did was ever good enough. For years Ander desperately tried to climb his way back up that pedestal, but he had finally realized it was no longer within his reach. So he resigned to playing just well enough that he could be proud of himself, knowing damn well he was the only one who would be.

And yet despite knowing this, everytime Ander began to work up the courage to quit, his father would give him just enough praise to satisfy his desperate need for approval. Just enough to fill Ander with some sort of pride and sense of accomplishment that would keep him going. But it never lasted.

And then came Omar, who without a doubt has made Ander happier than he could ever remember, who had brought life back into him. And his father...he knew. Ander wasn’t sure how, but his father knew Omar was special to him, and yet he still tried to take it away. Behind his back nonetheless. Because he didn’t actually care about Ander’s happiness, only that his son was a great tennis player. _The_ great tennis player. 

It was only through his own reflection in the window that he realized he had tears in his eyes, which only made him angrier. His father didn’t deserve any of his tears. He quickly squeezed his eyes shut to keep any from falling and with a small thud, leaned his head down against the glass. He braced his hands on the window sill and felt the window fog up with his heavy breaths, the condensation reaching up to his forehead, making some of his curls stick to the window. 

“Ander?” Omar’s soft voice reminded him that he wasn’t alone. 

He listened as Omar took a few hesitant steps towards him. Ander took a moment to compose himself and slowly turned to face him. Omar walked slowly, gauging Ander’s mood before coming to a stop just in front of him. Ander wasn’t even sure what to say at this point. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Omar wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. Ander buried his head in Omar’s neck and held onto him tightly, but no more tears came. 

Because despite the anger and betrayal he felt in this moment, he also felt happy. Happy that Omar was here for him, that the feelings he has for Ander are true. Happy that in spite of all the people who wanted to keep them apart, here they were, together. Omar was right here in his arms and it felt so damn good and so right. 

Ander didn’t want to let his anger with his father overshadow that. He refused to allow his father to have any more control over either of them.

He loosened his grip around Omar’s waist and pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. Omar’s arms hung on his shoulders as he slowly traced circles on his back with one hand, and ran his other hand through the hair on the nape of his neck. 

Ander felt the remains of his anger start to melt away. He leaned in and softly pressed his lips against Omar’s and in that moment, nothing else mattered. The only thing going through his mind was how to get Omar even closer, how to touch as much of him as possible at the same time, and how he was supposed to breath again without separating their lips. 

He felt Omar’s hands travel down his sides and grip his waist and pull him in, fusing their bodies together at yet another point. Ander eagerly brought his hands up on either side of Omar’s face, holding him in place while he deepened the kiss. But Omar’s small yelp broke them apart only seconds later. Omar quickly reached up and gently pulled Ander’s right hand down from his face, revealing the bruising that Ander stupidly forgot about. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” 

Omar moved his jaw back and forth for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s fine, just a little tender still.” 

Omar leaned in to kiss him again, but Ander hesitated. He didn’t want to hurt him, but he also really didn’t want to be done kissing Omar yet. Omar must have seen the conflict on his face and rolled his eyes, grabbing Ander by his tie and gently pulled him in again. 

“I’m not made of glass, I won’t shatter or anything.” Omar teased. He grabbed Ander’s hands and placed them on his hips. “Maybe just, keep them here instead?” He suggested.

That made Ander smile. He felt relieved knowing that Omar wanted to keep going as much as he did. He shrugged and let one hand slide down Omar’s side to grab his ass, squeezing the cheek in his hand. 

“And what if I want to put it here?” He asked innocently. 

Omar laughed as he wrapped his arms around Ander’s neck, “I’ll allow it,” he whispered against his lips. 

Ander grinned, and then neither were laughing anymore. 

Their hands hurried their way through too many buttons to reach skin. His balance was tested as Ander desperately tried to rid himself of his pants without ever leaving Omar’s mouth. And then finally falling into Ander’s bed, both breathless and eager to explore each other.

***

Ander laid on his side with one arm folded underneath his head, while the other arm was draped lazily across Omar’s waist. Omar mirrored his position, facing directly towards him but choosing instead to place his free hand on Ander’s bare chest, occasionally stroking his thumb across the warm skin, still flushed from the adrenaline. Their feet lightly tickled each other as they brushed back and forth between the sheets. Ander was hardly able to keep the stupid doppy grin off his face. 

He couldn’t believe Omar was right here— naked, in his bed. That they just shared what they had shared, together. It made his stomach flutter just knowing, _finally truly knowing_ , that Omar wanted to be with him. Ander wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stand in their way again. 

He thought back to the first time he saw Omar in that locker room, his face covered in blood from a random nose bleed. He remembered the instant attraction he felt for Omar and began to wonder if Omar had felt it too. With a snort, another memory from that day came to mind.

“What’s so funny?” Omar questioned with narrow eyes.

Ander smiled, “Remember when we met for the first time in the locker room?” He waited for Omar’s nod before continuing, “And remember how you made me strip down because of like, two spots of blood on my shirt?” 

Omar’s face flushed just slightly and Ander couldn’t hold back a giggle. He nodded once again and Ander squeezed his side teasingly, a smirk replacing his smile.

“You just wanted me to strip, huh?”

Omar rolled his eyes, but the deepening flush on his cheeks and neck gave him away. 

“You did!” Ander exclaimed, sitting up on his elbow. “Wow, I feel so used now.” 

“Oh, shut up. You liked it. You wanted to show off for me.” Omar looked at him smugly. 

“Maybe just a little, once I noticed you were checking me out.” 

Omar laughed and pushed at his chest playfully, “Whatever. Not my fault you’re so gullible.”

Which, true. Ander did tend to be a bit gullible. He knew that, but if it got him Omar, well then he didn’t quite mind. Omar looked thoughtful for a moment before he spoke again.

“What was with that nose bleed anyways? It was really intense. Did you ever go see a doctor or something?” Omar questioned, sitting up on his elbow and propping his head up with his hand.

Ander shook his head, “No, but I told my mom about it a few days later and she made me go see the nurse at school. She said it was probably just from stress or something.”

Omar nodded in understanding. As he turned his head, Ander’s eyes locked onto the bruising on his left cheek and jawline. 

“Tell me what happened.” 

Omar tried to fake confusion, but Ander wasn’t having it anymore. He gave him a stern look and a comforting squeeze on his side, silently urging him on. Omar sighed, his eyes stuck on a random spot on the sheets before a small smile flashed across his face. 

“Fine. Promise you won’t get mad?”

Omar was looking up at him through his thick eyelashes now, a small smirk on his face. Ander looked at him suspiciously, the curiosity making him anxious. He suddenly thought back to seeing Guzman at Omar’s locker earlier that day, and the strange way they were interacting.

“Wait, did you get into a fight with Guzman?!”

Omar laughed out loud, “No, no. Definitely not.”

Ander let out a breath of relief. For a moment, he was already taking revenge on Guzman in his mind.

“Although, it’s funny you mention him, cause uh, he actually helped me out. There would have probably been a lot more damage done to this pretty face if he hadn’t stepped in...”

“Wait, Guzman was there? Okay seriously, what the hell happened?” Ander asked anxiously.

“Promise you won’t be mad?” Omar asked again.

Intrigued, Ander nodded immediately. Being careful not to actually _say_ he won’t get mad, because he wasn’t actually sure if he could agree to that.

Omar let out a deep breath and readjusted himself so he was resting on the pillow again. Seeing Omar’s relaxed position helped soothe Ander’s nerves a bit, so he followed suit, resting his head back down on his arm as he tried to patiently wait for Omar to continue.

“Well, the other night at the party after you had stormed off and left me outside, I went looking for you. Only, I didn’t find you. Instead I found that one guy, _Jaime_.” 

Ander felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment at the mention of his name. He had felt so stupid, so desperate. But the way Omar said his name with such disdain, scrunching up his nose in disgust, nearly made Ander laugh instead. 

Omar glared at him. “Anyways, he was being a douchebag and I got angry and said some things...there was some shoving, and then next thing I knew I was on the ground with a mouth full of blood.” 

“Wait, he hit you?” Ander’s eyes went wide and his stomach twisted. He felt even more ashamed of himself for kissing the guy. How dare he put his hands on Omar.

Omar shrugged as his fingers absentmindedly pulled at the fabric of the sheet. 

Ander was trying to put all the pieces together. He knew that Omar was already on edge that night. Between all the alcohol and their heated makeout-turned-argument, Ander had purposely used that guy to fuel Omar’s jealousy. He couldn’t help but feel a little responsible— as well as a bit flattered that two guys were fighting over him.

“Well, what did you say to him?” Ander prompted, prying for more information.

Omar cleared his throat, avoiding Ander’s eyes, but a small smirk flashed across his face.

“I umm… well, I told him that you’re mine and to stay away.” Omar looked up at him bashfully, his face turning a soft red with embarrassment. “I know that wasn’t my place to say. I was pretty drunk…” He trailed off nervously.

Ander’s heart was racing. He couldn’t believe Omar said those things. He wanted to know everything, hear every detail of what happened, but one thing stuck in his mind more than anything else.

“Say it again.” Ander asked, his voice coming out a little breathless. 

Omar looked at him with confusion, his voice hesitant as he spoke, “Um, I was pretty drunk?”

Ander couldn’t help but laugh as he shook his head playfully. 

Omar narrowed his eyes, then tentatively asked, “It wasn’t my place..?”

Ander shook his head again and tugged on his bottom lip to hide his smile as he squeezed Omar’s side. His face must have given it away then, because soon Omar was smirking, knowing exactly what Ander was looking for.

“You’re mine.” He told him, no questions this time.

A smile immediately broke across Ander’s face as he nodded slowly, his eyes dropped down to Omar’s mouth as a warm tingling feeling made its way deep into his stomach. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain why the words had such an affect on him, both at the party and now. He’s never belonged to anyone before, nor did he ever think he wanted to, but when Omar says it…

Omar smirked, his eyes playful. He was clearly enjoying watching the effect he was having on Ander.

He leaned in close and brushed his nose as he whispered against his lips, “Mine.”

Ander felt his whole body light on fire at that. His labored breathing would almost be embarrassing if he wasn’t so turned on. Ander’s hand moved up his side, over his shoulder and to his chest, raking his fingers in the soft black hair as Omar nuzzled their noses together, keeping his lips just out of reach and driving Ander wild. He felt Omar back away a little and was ready to protest when he felt the warmth of his fingers come up to cup his cheek, grazing his fingertips across Ander’s cheekbone while his thumb lightly traced his lips. He was looking at Ander in a way no one has ever looked at him before. 

“Tell me again.” Ander pleaded.

Omar pulled his bottom lip down with his thumb, lingering. Ander’s eyes fluttered closed just briefly at the contact, and when he opened them again he felt his own cock twitch at the look in Omar’s eyes— almost pure black with lust and desire as he stared at Ander’s mouth. Ander turned his head just slightly and placed a sloppy open mouth kiss on Omar’s palm, forcing him to look up and keeping eye contact the entire time. As Omar watched him, Ander could feel his quickening heartbeat underneath his hand. He curled his fingers and pressed his blunt nails into the skin there and waited eagerly for Omar to react.

He didn’t need to wait long. 

Within seconds, the hand that was on Ander’s mouth now covered his throat as Omar pinned him back onto the bed. Ander gasped in surprise, feeling impossibly even more turned on than before. His grip was firm, but tender. He could feel his own saliva on his skin from where he left it on Omar’s palm, causing goosebumps to trail down his chest. Omar smirked down on him and leaned in close, hovering just over his mouth.

“I said, you’re mine,” Omar whispered against his lips, punctuating it with a small nip to his bottom lip.

Omar pulled back to smile down at him devilishly, relaxing his grip on Ander’s throat and taking in his disheveled look before softly kissing him. He slowly teased Ander’s mouth open as he placed himself directly on top of him, his full weight pushing Ander even further into the mattress. He could feel Omar’s hardening cock brush up against his own and moaned into his mouth, trying desperately to align them just right, but Omar’s weight on his hips made it difficult to move. 

Omar giggled against his lips at Ander’s struggle. He seemed to know exactly how to undo him. Kissing his way down Ander’s neck, Omar made quick work sucking a spot just underneath his jaw. Ander secretly hoped it would leave a mark.

Omar worked his hips slowly against him at a pace that was absolutely maddening to Ander, contrasting the speed in which his heart was racing. Ander pawed at Omar’s back, reaching down and grabbing a handful of his ass and squeezing it tightly, trying to pull him in impossibly closer, desperate for more friction. They had both just come not even half an hour ago— Ander could still taste Omar on the back of his tongue, but he needed release like he needed air to breathe. 

Omar smirked against his lips before pulling back onto his elbows, “Was there something you needed?” he teased. 

Ander scoffed as he squirmed underneath Omar’s weight. “You’re the worst.”

Omar cocked his eyebrow and then shifted his weight over to one side. He quickly grabbed the back of one of Ander’s thighs and draped it around his waist before adjusting himself back on top. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, which nearly made Ander’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he swore under his breath. 

“You were saying?” 

“ _Fuck_ , Omar.” The new angle was certainly doing things for Ander now. 

He eagerly began using his leg as leverage to meet each of Omar’s slow thrusts. It was still a tortuously slow pace, but Ander was definitely starting to appreciate it more and more. 

After so much wasted time playing games, keeping secrets, and letting their father’s dictate their lives, Ander realized he wanted to bask in every second he had alone with Omar. He wanted to take his time to memorize every inch of his body, every sound that he made, and savor it for as long as possible. And he planned to.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you may or may not remember, I initially planned on this story having a cancer plot line to it (aka the whole meeting because of a nose bleed), which, I clearly have not gone through with and have overall decided not to pursue because, f*ck cancer. So please instead accept my half-assed attempt at tying up that loose end as closure to that story line.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ander learns the truth (part three).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was pretty much ready a week ago and man, what a fucking week it was. 
> 
> I live in Texas, so you may have heard we had a little trouble with a crazy winter storm. I went four days without heat or electricity with temps as low as 5 degrees F, along with no running water for three days. Had to cover all my windows with towels and blankets to try to block the cold from coming in through the shitty insulation. Luckily I have a gas stove, so I was still able to cook what I could (in the dark), and was able to dump most of my fridge and freezer contents in the snow that filled my patio to keep them cold. And just with those two things, I was luckier than most. But I’m okay, my family and friends are all okay. My pipes didn’t burst, power is back on, water is running again (although we have to boil it before we can drink or use it), and believe it or not, it is a beautiful sunny day with a high of 75. 
> 
> So, to end my rant, enjoy the little things; never take for granted basic electricity, running water, and sunshine. Oh and fuck Ted Cruz. Thank you. Now back to your irregularly scheduled Omander programming.

Ander woke to the sound of a car door closing. He blinked open his eyes, taking in the very last of the burnt orange and red streaks remaining in the sky as they faded away to black. The next thing he noticed was the feel of Omar’s slow breaths on his chest as he laid asleep with his arm draped across Ander’s waist. Ander smiled to himself and lightly dragged his fingers through Omar’s thick black hair. His smile grew wider as Omar groaned and pressed into his touch. He thinks he could definitely get used to waking up like this.

“Ander! I’m home!” 

Omar lifted his head once he heard Azucena’s voice from downstairs.

“Time’s up, I guess.” Omar pouted, and Ander couldn’t help but kiss him, he looked far too cute when he was sleepy.

It was meant to be a quick peck, but Ander soon realized he was not ready to say goodbye just yet. He quickly rolled them over, pulling a surprised squeak out of Omar. 

“Anderrr…” He protested, but kissed him back nonetheless. “Ander, your mother is home. We need to get dressed.” He got out between kisses, but Ander had no intention of stopping yet. 

It was the sound of a second car door closing that made Ander freeze, followed by the sound of the car locking. One that was all too familiar. Omar looked confused by Ander’s sudden motion, but Ander had no time to explain. He had to see for himself.

He jumped up out of bed, snagging his underwear off the floor and quickly walked over to the window.

“Fuck.” He breathed out as he saw the second car in the driveway.

He turned to Omar right as he heard the front door open again downstairs. “ _Fuck!_ ” 

Omar sat up quickly, “What? What is it?” 

Ander ran back over to the bed and started collecting the scattered clothes they had left on the floor in the heat of the moment.

“My dad is home.” 

They both shared a look of panic for a moment before Omar jumped up, cursing under his breath as he grabbed his clothes off the floor and hastily began putting them on. 

“I thought you said he wouldn’t be home until later?” 

“Well in case you hadn’t noticed, it is later. We fell asleep!” His voice came out harsher than he meant, but he was panicking. How the hell was he supposed to get Omar out without his father seeing him? 

“Ander!” His mother called out again. She was at the bottom of the staircase, he could tell. “Your father picked up dinner on his way home. Come eat!”

“I’ll be down in a minute!” He shouted back towards the door as he threw a t-shirt over his head. 

He looked to Omar, who was tying his shoes now. His stomach was in knots, but he had an idea. 

“What if we both confront him?”

“What? Like right now? Are you crazy?”

“Yes. This could work. Come downstairs with me, we’ll act like nothing's wrong and feel out how my dad reacts. If he sees you here he would know that I know what he did, and then we can confront him together. My mom will be on our side, I’m sure of it.” 

Ander’s mind was racing, trying to play out the scenario in his head. This _could_ work, he told himself. But the look on Omar’s face told him he thought otherwise.

“I don’t know, Ander. I don’t think it’s a good idea...what would we even say? What if it doesn’t work and he goes through with telling my father? We need a plan.” 

He could see the panic on Omar’s face and Ander tried to not look disappointed. He thought that Omar telling him all of this meant that he wanted to be free of his father’s blackmail as soon as possible. He thought that they would do it together.

“Omar, I can’t just sit there and pretend I know nothing. I’ll end up exploding, I know it.” 

He sighed as he walked over to him and grabbed his hands. He wanted to tell Omar how much he needed him there, how much he needed his support. But Omar seemed to have his mind made up.

“I just think it would be best if we had time to come up with a plan. It doesn’t have to be weeks from now or anything…” 

Ander nodded in defeat. He wasn’t going to force Omar to do anything he didn’t want to do, but he also wasn’t going to promise to wait to say something.

“Fine.” He reluctantly agreed. The relief on Omar’s face was immediate. “I’ll distract them while you sneak out the front door, okay? Just wait for my signal.”

Omar nodded in understanding and kissed him on the cheek, “Thank you.” 

***

Ander motioned for Omar to stay put as he approached the bottom of the stairs. His mother stood at the kitchen island, dishing food out from the to-go containers. He took a step towards her and froze as his father walked into the kitchen from the other side, scrolling through his phone as he walked towards the fridge.

He wasn’t quite prepared for the wave of anger that immediately came over him as he looked at his father. He wanted to walk over to him and punch him in the face. His hands were already clenching into tight fists when he saw Omar waving his hand at him out of the corner of his eye. He had nearly forgotten Omar was still there, so blinded by anger. They shared a look before Ander glanced back into the kitchen, making sure both his parents were still distracted and then waved Omar towards the door. 

He needed to get a hold of himself. He took a deep breath and slowly walked towards the kitchen, where his mother noticed his presence.

“Hey sweetie, come help me set the table will you?” She asked as she continued plating each item.

Ander stopped and looked at his mother for a moment. Could he trust her to be on his side in all of this? Or would he only cause her more pain and trouble? His parent’s marriage was already rocky, but would he be the reason for their split? He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. He wanted his mother to leave him, but he also didn’t want to hurt her or cause her any more trouble. 

“Ander, help your mother.” His father scolded as he sat down at the table with a beer in hand, waiting to be served rather than helping his wife. 

Ander glared at him, his anger returning. He clenched his jaw tight to keep from talking back. His father didn’t even look twice at him. 

“Here, take this to the table— oh! I didn’t realize we had company.” His mother said as she looked up, a pleasant smile on her face.

Ander’s eyes went wide and he turned to his right to see Omar walking towards him. He had an innocent smile on his face. Ander’s head was spinning as he tried silently to ask him with his eyes what he was doing, but Omar ignored him.

“Will you be staying for dinner, Omar? We have plenty.”

“That would be great, thank you.” Omar answered with a smile.

As she turned to grab another plate, Omar winked at him and gave his hand a small squeeze. He knew this was Omar’s way of telling him that they were in this together, that he would fight alongside him. It made his heart swell, and Ander couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

At the table, his father was certainly paying attention now. Ander’s smile turned smug as he motioned for Omar to follow him into the kitchen, both of them grabbing plates to bring to the table before sitting down to what Ander was sure would be an interesting dinner. 

The tension in the room was obvious to everyone except his mother, who rambled on and on about her board meeting. Omar, ever the polite one, listened and nodded along as she spoke. If he was even half as nervous as he was when they were upstairs, he didn’t show it. 

Ander on the other hand, barely touched his food. He sat silently at the table, opposite of Omar, with his parents on either side of him. He was acutely aware of his father’s gaze on him every few seconds as he ate his food. He wondered if he knew at this point that Ander knew. He wondered if his father had his own plan already, knowing Omar would eventually crack and tell him. He wondered if it was all just some sort of trap.

He felt on edge. Omar was right, they should have waited to come up with a plan first. His leg shook anxiously under the table as he desperately tried to think of what to say and how to say it. It took him by surprise, how hard it was to pretend nothing was wrong. This was Ander’s speciality, what he had perfected over the years. But this time, it was different. It was personal. And with each minute that passed, Ander felt himself slowly losing more and more control.

He was only half paying attention to what his mother was saying, but she seemed to be done ranting about her meeting and instead turned her attention towards Omar. 

“So, Omar. Tell us what you’ve been up to. I know Ander hates when I ask his friends about school,” She rolled her eyes at him playfully as she spoke, “so how is everything going outside of school?”

“Well, pretty good. I help run my family’s store, so I usually spend most of my time outside of school working there and helping out as much as I can.”

“How lovely, I’m sure you’re a great help to your family.” His mother spoke sweetly. 

Omar nodded and smiled as he picked up his drink to take a sip. Ander had perked up slightly at the mention of Omar’s family’s store. He looked to Omar, who winked again and gave a slight nod towards his mother to continue the conversation. Ander sat up straight, and gave a small smile to Omar for giving him the opening he needed to expose his father. He was really glad Omar stayed. 

“Yeah, it’s a really nice store mom, you should stop by and see it sometime. Wouldn’t you say so, dad?” 

Ander’s father looked up from his plate with confusion, but Ander could see the anger underneath it. If he didn’t know before, he knew now. He picked up the napkin from his lap and slowly wiped his face before speaking, clearly buying himself some time.

“Sorry? I’m not sure what you’re asking.” 

“I was asking if you thought it was a nice store.” Ander replied innocently. 

They both stared at each other in silence for a long moment before his mother spoke up.

“Antonio, you’ve been?” She asked curiously. “What were you doing over on that side of town?”

He looked to his wife, and then to Omar. 

“Hey, no hard feelings if you didn’t like it!” Omar cut in, “I mean it’s small and cramped and that bright green paint even gives me headaches sometimes. But you have to admit, we have the best selection of produce in town, wouldn’t you say? It’s a shame you didn’t get to try any. Actually, I’m not sure I remember you buying anything at all...” 

Ander could hardly contain the smirk on his face as he listened to Omar. He had no idea where Omar’s sudden bravery came from, but he loved it. His mother looked between the two, not really sure what to make of the conversation.

“Huh, that’s weird.” Ander added, “Why would you go so far out of your way to stop by Omar’s family’s store, only to leave empty handed?” 

He stared straight at his father with mock innocence, daring him to deny it. His father looked accusingly between Ander and Omar, stabbing the lettuce on his plate with a little too much force. 

“That’s enough. Eat your food.”

“Well, perhaps Omar could fill us in on your visit then?” Ander suggested, pointed to Omar as if to give him the floor to speak.

His father slammed his fork down on the table, startling them all. “I said enough, Ander!”

“ _Antonio_! What the hell is going on with you?” His mother hissed. When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Somebody, please, tell me what’s going on here!” 

Ander recognized his mother’s tone, she was in full principal mode. The room was silent, full of children who just got caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do. Ander could no longer hide the disgust he felt for his father. 

“What were you doing over there, Antonio?” His mother asked again, her voice firm.

His father was silent for a moment. He took a large gulp of his beer as they waited for him to speak. Ander wasn’t sure if he would own up to what he had done or not, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his tongue for much longer.

He cleared his throat as he set down his beer, avoiding eye contact with everyone at the table. “I had a business meeting—” 

“That’s bullshit!” Ander nearly jumped out of his seat, his hands slamming on the table top. “How _dare_ you! How could you do that to me? How could you—”

His father stood up and began to yell over him, “You have no idea what you’re talking about you stupid boy! And _you_ ,” he turned now to face Omar, “you need to mind your mouth or else—”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Ander yelled back. 

A loud whistle filled his ears painfully, silencing them both as his mother stood at the other end of the table, fury and shock written all over her face. Ander hardly ever saw his mother angry. She was usually cool headed, which was one of the reasons why she was so good at her job. 

“Sit down. Both of you. _Now_.” She scolded, pushing back the sleeves of her cardigan and crossing her arms against her chest as she looked between her husband and son as they both sat back down in their seats. “I cannot believe you two, behaving like children at the dinner table, in front of our guest no less.” 

His mother took a deep breath and waited a moment for everyone to calm down. Ander could feel his heart beating in his throat, threatening to jump out. There was no turning back now.

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on. _Now._ ” She demanded. 

Ander flinched just slightly, not used to his mother yelling. He looked to Omar, who looked pale in the face, his eyes focused somewhere on the table. Ander wished he could hold his hand right now. Whether for himself or for Omar, he wasn’t sure. But he knew that this had to end. He wouldn’t let his father hurt Omar ever again. He took a deep breath, narrowed his eyes at his father, and spoke as calmly as he could.

“Dad has been blackmailing Omar. To keep him away from me.” 

His father looked at him blankly with his arms across his chest. His expression, unreadable.

“What? What are you saying? Why would he do that?” Azucena questioned frantically.

“He thinks Omar is too distracting from tennis. Because all he ever fucking cares about is _stupid tennis_!” His blood began to boil again as he spoke. “Well guess what? I _hate_ tennis! I don’t even want to play anymore. Do you hear me?”

His father shook his head in denial, but said nothing. It enraged Ander even more.

“Wait, honey I’m confused, I thought you loved playing?” His mother asked.

Ander shook his head slowly at his mother. “No, mama. Not anymore.” He looked to Omar, his expression turning soft and his heart beating fast for an entirely different reason now. “But what I do love is...is Omar. I love him.”

Ander was glad he was looking at Omar as he said those words. He wanted to memorize the way Omar’s eyes lit up, how his cheeks turned a scarlet red as he bashfully smiled back at him. It was beautiful. And he didn’t know why he hadn’t told him sooner, because as soon as he said it, he realized he had known it for a long time.

He had to force himself to look away, to look back at his mother. Ander couldn’t tell if she seemed surprised or not at his confession, but she smiled softly as she looked back at him. From the other side of the table, he heard his father scoff and mumble something under his breath. He turned back towards his father to look him in the eyes as he told his mother what he had done.

“He followed me to Omar’s the weekend after my tournament and spied on us. He took photos of us holding hands and then threatened to show Omar’s father, who would disown him if he ever found out.” Just saying it all out loud brought back the disain he felt towards him, his voice getting louder. “All this because of what, dad? You couldn’t stand to see me actually happy? You thought I was purposely throwing games because of him? What is it, huh?”

“ _No_.” His father answered sharply. “Because I will not allow you to throw away your life, your career, your future. All the money and time we’ve put into giving you the best training, the best equipment. I will not allow that to go to waste over some stupid _crush_.”

“It’s not a crush, dad! Didn’t you hear me? I— ”

“Stop. Just stop. You’re a child, you know nothing of love.” His father spat.

Ander scoffed, “Then neither do you. A father who loved their son would _never_ do what you’ve done.” 

Ander could feel his throat tightening as the pain began to resurface. On the other end of the table, his mother sat in shock, her hand over her mouth. The whole room silent. Ander angrily wiped away the tear that threatened to fall. He could feel Omar’s eyes on him and wished once again he could be holding his hand. 

Ander stood up and took a step towards his father and held out his hand. “Give me your phone.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Give him the damn phone, Antonio.” His mother snapped.

His father stared between him and his wife before reaching into his pocket. Ander snatched the phone out of his hand as soon as it was within reach, turning on his heel and walking a few steps away, out of his father’s reach. He swiped the screen, only for a passcode lock to pop up. Ander hesitated for a moment, nervous that he wouldn’t be able to get in to delete the photos. He began racking his memory for personal important dates that people commonly use as their passcodes when he heard his mother’s wavering voice.

“Try 1-0-2-9-6-7.” 

Ander immediately typed in the code and was granted access into the phone. Once he found the photos, he felt his heart skip a beat as he scrolled through them, remembering that day and that conversation well. He heard his mother get up and soon felt her looking over his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand come up to cover her mouth again as a small gasp escaped, like she hadn’t really been sure of it all until now. He was glad she saw them. She deserved to know what kind of man he really was.

He quickly selected all the photos and deleted them and immediately felt the tension in his body slowly begin to release. Ander turned back to his father and tossed his phone on the table carelessly.

“There. You have no control over us anymore.” Ander told him.

He looked back at Omar and they both shared a look of relief as he sat back down.

“So that’s it then, yeah?” His father chuckled. “You’re free and all, and tomorrow you’ll be walking hand and hand in the hallways, right? You’ll be going out on dates now, meeting his parents...or wait, is he not out to his family yet?” 

“Antonio, that’s enough.” Azucena warned as they both glared at him. 

He ignored her though and stood up, leaning forward with his hands on the table and looked directly at Ander. 

“You really think that boy will be with you now? Listen to me son, that boy will never give you the type of relationship you desire.” He pointed to Omar now as his voice got louder, angrier. “He will never stand up to his father. He will rot behind that countertop pretending to be someone else.” 

Ander shook his head angrily at the audacity of his father, his chest heaving along with his rapid heartbeat. 

“And if you two do get together without his family knowing the truth about him, he will always be looking over his shoulder, making sure no one sees him. Making sure that no one sees the two of you together. Do you really want that? Do you want to be someone’s dirty secret?”

“You’re wrong.” Ander told him, head still shaking in denial, though part of him began to consider his words as they sunk in, twisting and poisoning his mind with doubt.

“Am I? Because your boyfriend is awfully quiet over there…”

They all three looked to Omar now. He was staring blankly at the food on his plate, his knuckles turning white around his fork and his jaw clenched tightly. Ander’s heart raced as he waited for Omar to say something, anything. 

When he finally looked up at him, Ander couldn’t quite read his expression, which scared him. He was afraid that Omar would back down and give in to the threats. He was afraid that Omar wouldn’t truly be with him, that he was ashamed of him. That he didn’t love Ander the same way Ander loved him, or that Ander’s love wasn’t enough. He tried to push the thoughts far away, he didn’t want to let his father’s words get to him. He’d done enough damage already, and now he was making Ander doubt their relationship and their future.

His heart was nearly out of his throat as he silently begged for Omar to say something; to tell his father he was wrong, that they would be together now, that he loved him too. 

He knew Omar loved him too, _right_? 

The silence was deafening as it rang through his ears, his pulse getting louder and louder, the only thing filling the silence. 

His father spoke softly now, “All I’m saying is, before you sacrifice your future and compromise your own happiness, make sure you are doing it for someone who would do the same for you. If you want to quit tennis, fine. But if by the time you graduate, you have no scholarships, no acceptance letters, and still no _real_ boyfriend, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Ander narrowed his eyes at his father now, a lump growing quickly in his throat, but he wasn’t going to let him say those things without a fight. Before Ander could argue, Omar spoke up.

“I think I should go now.” His voice sounded weak and defeated as he stood up.

Ander didn’t want Omar to leave now. Not like this. Not without defending himself or defending their relationship. Was the bond they had built really that fragile already? 

Panicked, Ander stood up immediately after Omar, “I’ll walk you.” 

Omar nodded but said nothing else. He barely even looked at him, meanwhile, Ander couldn’t take his eyes off Omar. He was desperate for some kind of sign as to what he was thinking. 

As he made his way around the table, his father’s firm hand on his arm stopped him. “Ander. I know you might hate me now, but I hope one day you will understand I was only ever trying to protect you from heartbreak and disappointment.”

Ander looked into his father’s eyes. While he hated him for what he’s done, part of him still saw the man that Ander had always tried so hard to impress, to get his approval. He obviously did not approve of Omar, or their relationship, and Ander hated that he still cared about his opinion. He hated that his father’s disapproval still weighed on him, even after everything he’s done.

“Well I hope one day you can understand why I never want anything to do with you again.” His voice wavered just slightly as he swiftly pulled his arm out of his father’s grip and raced after Omar out the front door.

“Omar! Wait!” 

Omar slowed to a stop and Ander jogged the rest of the way to him. As he turned back towards him, Ander did not like the look he saw on Omar’s face. He looked defeated still, but there was something else too, something that scared him even more. He gently took Omar’s face in his hands, searching his eyes and desperate to remind him of their connection, to not give up on them.

“Hey, listen to me. Ignore him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, okay? He doesn’t know the first thing about you...”

“Doesn’t he though?” Omar’s face turned hard, making Ander’s stomach twist. “I mean, let’s face it, he’s not entirely wrong, Ander. What were we expecting to happen now? What difference does it all make if I don’t have the balls to stand up to my own father? I don’t want to be constantly looking over my shoulder, checking if anyone is around just so I can kiss you or touch you. You deserve more. You deserve better...” 

Ander’s heart was threatening to shatter into a million pieces as he finally realized what the look on Omar’s face was: regret. Was this what Omar had meant when he said he wasn’t good enough for him at Lu’s party? Did he already know then that he would never truly be with Ander, regardless of the truth coming out? Did he regret telling Ander the truth? Did he regret what they had shared earlier in Ander’s bed? Did he regret telling Ander he was his? He began to feel desperate.

“I don’t care about that! We can keep this between us for as long as you need.” Ander argued frantically, “I meant what I said, I love you.”

Omar watched him for a moment, his face softening as a small smile pulled at his lips. He took a shaky breath and wrapped his hands around Ander’s waist, pulling him in and resting their foreheads together for a moment.

“Thank you. For listening to me. For giving me a chance to explain. For letting me show you how much I care about you...and for not giving up on me, even when you had every right to.” Omar whispered.

Ander brushed his nose against Omar’s as he spoke and kissed him softly in response, hoping that Omar could feel just how much Ander wanted to be with him, how much he was willing to do to make things work, and how much he loved him. 

“Thank you for telling me the truth. I know this wasn’t easy on you.” 

Omar pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, remorse still written all over his face. He brought a hand up to Ander’s face and softly brushed his thumb against his lips once again before placing it underneath his chin and kissing him once more. 

“You make me want to be brave, like you. But I’m just not sure I’m ready to lose my family yet. I just need some time, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Omar pulled himself out of Ander’s hands, grabbed his bike and disappeared into the night, leaving Ander alone to wonder if he had just lost Omar the same day he finally got him.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the three-part Ander monologue. Next chapter will switch back to Omar's POV.


End file.
